


Study Hall

by AsYouAre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 22:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 158,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsYouAre/pseuds/AsYouAre
Summary: Regina Mills does it every morning now—a walk of shame from her lover's apartment. But she struggles to find solace in the halls of the complex when she happens upon another, who's doing the same exact thing. Could this one hallway rendezvous with a stranger have the potential to be something more?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP that I started on FFNET and needed a new home. Please be gentle with my baby. And enjoy!

_Author's Note: This was originally intended to just be a one-shot based on a prompt from a long while back but I became rather fond of it so we’ll see how this goes. Thank you for giving it a read!_

_And thanks to Nicole for helping me out with this!_

* * *

 

Her clothes are bunched on the floor in a messy pile, an uncharacteristic move for her but one she makes every time she’s here because it ‘s easier that way, to scoop them up into her arms and quickly bolt for the door.

And she does just that, the same ritualistic feeling she gets every morning as she shifts beneath the navy blue cotton sheets and swings her legs out to plant her feet onto the cold laminate flooring.  She’s silent, breathing shallowly as she makes her fairly obvious get away—Graham knew the drill. And just like that she’s back in the danky, claustrophobic hallway that reeked of what was more than likely a mixture of booze, drugs and mold. (Graham hadn’t really chosen a prime living establishment.)

Regina sets her pumps down on the floor as she’d done countless times before and slips each foot into their respective shoe and just a she goes to slip on her overcoat over the silky black slip that was her only cover, the door across the way creaks open as someone else is also tiptoeing their way out of a messy morning.

She recognizes him immediately; it’s the same man who is here almost as often as she is now, moving his way through each of the girls on Graham’s floor and probably the entire apartment complex. She keeps her eyes to the ground as she continues to don her coat but she can’t resist glancing up at him through her thick lashes.

His grin fleshes out in a particular grand fashion—those charming dimples make a deep indention in his face and make it rather difficult for her to restrain her own smile. “We have to stop meeting like this,” he calls out.

“Well perhaps you should stop taking an interest in girls who live on the same floor,” she shoots back coolly.

“Perhaps you should stop walking out of the same guy’s apartment every morning,” his grin shifts into a smirk and had Regina cared to engage the bandit of women’s virtue, she would’ve informed him that she and Graham just weren’t at that stage yet. Sure it’d been almost a month and a half since they’d started sleeping together and it’d been even longer since they’d met (although not much longer, they weren’t the dating type either) but they weren’t at a stage yet where she stayed over into the late morning and where he would cook her breakfast and they would chat about the news or something.

“What I do is none of your business,” she retorts, displeased that the conversation has extended this long.

“Well neither is mine, yours,” he mimics her tone precisely.

She rolls her eyes and pads over to the staircase, attempting to evade upholding anymore conversation with him but nevertheless muttering her answer as she went, “If you didn’t make it the business of everyone living on this floor, then perhaps I’d be able to neglect it—and believe me, I’ve tried.”

“But you don’t live here,” he muses for a moment before adding, “or even stay here for that matter.”

Regina can’t help but turn around at that, displaying her irritation in its full value, but she realizes that she has neglected to create a retort and her embarrassment only furthers when he raises his right eyebrow smugly. Instead, she huffs out an irritated sigh and turns on her heel to go about her descent down the stairs.

“Wait,” and he is reaching for her arm, turning her around as her foot goes to step down. She nearly loses her balance which only increases her enmity to him, but still turns around allowing him the chance to fail at redeeming himself.

“I hope I didn’t upset you,” his voice softer now, more sincere.

But she is unmoved by his apology and simply dismisses with a wave of her free hand while slipping the other out of his grasp.

“Let me take you to coffee,” he spits out while fishing in his pants pockets that had been draped over his arm, to pull out a plastic card—Starbucks.

Regina sighs. He seems like a genuinely nice guy, aggravating sure, but nevertheless charming in his own respect. And it won’t hurt to go get coffee with him, she isn’t exactly committed per se to Graham and heaven knows this guy hasn’t been committed to a single soul in his life. But on the other hand, she doesn’t know him and doesn’t really care to get to know him.

“What makes you think I want to get coffee with you?” The chill in her voice remains rather solid.

He chuckles then, “Must you be so stubborn?”

If she’s honest, stubbornness is one of her stronger qualities and it’s rather convenient. It helps her keep everyone at bay that way she can steer clear of any drama and attachments. That’s why she and Graham work so well; he allows her to be stubborn and gives her anything that she wants. She’s satisfied and that’s all that matters to her, and seemingly to Graham too.

“It’s not being stubborn if I just don’t want to go,” she crosses her arms then to emphasize her denial.

But the man isn’t budging and instead squints his eyes slightly to scrutinize her as if she were a difficult calculus problem. His stare is actually rather piercing and it makes her uncomfortable how naked she feels in front of him even though she knows she’s at least semi dressed. She nevertheless feels the need to skim her hands down her front side just to be sure. His stare doesn’t relent for at least a minute and Regina can feel her irritation growing greater by the second.

And yet, as uncomfortable as she feels, she thinks that she rather likes that he’s looking at her, something about the way he does it makes her feel noticed like he really was trying to see her instead of through her. Graham doesn’t quite look at her this way. He notices her, of course, but there’s something missing; there always has been.

She can’t take it any longer so she huffs out angrily, “What are you doing?”

“Listening.”

That throws her off. Of all the things she was expecting, that was not one of them. But she says nothing and merely furrows her brow.

“For the ocean.”

Again she gives a nonverbal push for him to finish his thought.

He smirks and she realizes immediately how much she hates it. It’s so smug and self assured, like he knows he has her right where he wants her. She isn’t about to play games with some stupid man slut who probably tramped his way through countless girls’ lives. She can already tell he’s probably not the brightest of his kind and probably too daft to realize it. But he’s a smug little shit, though. That is for certain.

“Must be hollow in that chest of yours,” he finally finishes.

Regina is taken aback. For a guy who was just apologizing for fear of offending her, he’s rather quick to do it again.

She thinks to just walk away, to just ignore what he said and move on with her day. After all, she does have such a lavish life to attend to. But something stops her from turning around and going on her way. Perhaps it’s his piercing stare, or maybe the insult itself and her need to defend herself but either way she doesn’t move.

“Why worry about hearing the ocean from my chest when the sound is roaring between your ears in that empty head of yours,” she fires back.

He’s the one stunted this time but he seems impressed as he purses his lips and gives a gentle nod, “Ah seems the bite is as bad as the bark. “

“Yes and I could gut you easily.”

“It would be an honor to be gutted by you m’lady.” His smirk is back but this time with a sultrier undertone that has Regina’s stomach doing a single somersault. It also didn’t help that he’s sliding on his pants at the moment.

Her better judgment is still saying to walk away but she still stays stagnant and doesn’t move again until he does, walking past her to begin his descent down the stairs.

After about the fourth or fifth step he glances back up at her, “You coming?” And then he continues to clobber down the stairs before she can answer.

Part of her begs her not to move a muscle, not until he’s down in the street and realizes she’s not followed him and he goes to get his coffee alone. But then there’s that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach to join him. She never has fun anymore and she’s always the adult in her relationship with Graham.

She looks down at her watch. She has time to spare…

Oh this is a bad idea.

But she begins to move anyway, scurrying quickly down the stairs to catch her hallway friend before he gets away.

When she gets to the street though, he’s not outside the door and she’s sure she’s missed him. Damn.

“Took you long enough,” she hears behind her.

He’s standing there, leaning against the building with his arms crossed and that stupid smirk plastered across his face.

Had she noticed before how nice his arms are? Nicely toned, the perfect type to be held in.

This is a mistake and she thinks he sees that on her face because he steps to her then, his brow furrowed.

“Look, if you really don’t want to go, just say so and I’ll leave you be.” His voice is frantic now and Regina finds it endearing how concerned he is over this.

But she wishes to soothe his worry, she can feel it as her heart lurches when she takes in his sort of down trodden pout. This isn’t going to go well and she knows this; she keeps telling herself this. But she has to, she just does.

“Well I suppose it would be stupid for me to turn down free coffee,” she turns her nose in the air, careful to not look at him as his sly smile creeps back onto his face. Great, she’s done it now.

“Wonderful,” he answers and he moves to her now, terribly close to her personal space but nevertheless inviting. And god does he smell fantastic, especially for a dirty “sleeps with 15 different women a week” type of guy. The smell doesn’t linger though because he is moving to the street, walking towards his car or at least she hopes it’s his.

Here goes nothing.

||

Starbucks is packed with the morning rush, of course, and Regina can already sense the pounding in her head that will result from this but she goes in anyway, in tow of her coffee date. Although, this isn’t a date—under no circumstances would this ever be a date.

After all, he isn’t dating material, that much she knows. He’s sloppy, sleeps around, and is probably some aspiring (and failing) musician, who tried to make it big in LA and wound up here instead, two states away, in Albuquerque. His job is irrelevant though because this is a onetime thing. She’d go out on one cordial coffee rendezvous and then she would go home, hopefully never to come across the man again. She thinks to ask his name too but perhaps it was better this way, easier to keep him at a distance if there were no names involved. No attachment whatsoever.

They finally make it to the counter and he orders himself a caffé Americano and “whatever the lady wishes” which is a caramel macchiato, no whip cream, small caramel drizzle and a double shot.

He clicks his tongue then, which elicits a terse _what_ from her.

“Nothing,” he grins sheepishly.

She narrows her eyes so that her lids can prevent them from rolling straight out of her head. “No, what?” she demands again.

“It’s just you _are_ that type of girl.”

“I beg your pardon,” her voice rises with incredulity.

“Look nothing wrong with it, it’s just who you are,” he shrugs.

“Then why do you say it with such disdain?”

“Not my intention.”

“Then what is your intention?”

He gets closer to her again until his face is mere centimeters from hers and she sucks in her breath and holds it firmly. She can smell his scent again but she tries to maintain her composure because she wasn’t going to falter to some ridiculous need to breathe him in. He’s not even that cute.

But when his voice drops low, she can feel her knees nearly give out, “I suppose that’s for you to try and find out.”

She pulls her head back an inch or two so that he can see her face in its entirety. “I don’t care to try and find out anything from you.”

He pulls away completely now with a, “Fair enough,” and turns to face the barista who was staring at them, mouth slightly open in confusion. But she manages to get herself together enough to take the card and charge it, telling them that their drinks would be out momentarily.

He takes her to a high top table—she hates those—but he does pull out her chair which is at least civil enough so she takes her seat and darts her eyes quickly over the room. Why had she agreed to this? Painfully awkward small talk with a total stranger (and one she’s already not fond of) is not exactly her forte. This is exactly why she doesn’t do blind dates; they always turn into a nightmare and she’s left to do damage control because the guy always manages to stick his foot in his mouth and she runs out of pleasantries so she has to come up with some bogus excuse to get out. And that’s what she does now, skims her brain for a good out just in case. So she reaches in her bag to pull out her cell. Perhaps she could fake a work call, although it isn’t exactly helpful since she’s out for the summer but she could lie her way out of that one.

Damn. Dead.

Of course, she forgot to charge it while she was at Graham’s.

“So,” he clears his throat, “you from here?”

“No,” she answers shortly.

“Then where’re you from?”

“I was born and raised in Phoenix and I decided to move.”

“Why?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Like hell she’d ever tell him how she wound up here after leaving Phoenix. She and Graham hadn’t even had this discussion yet. He’d asked once but she’d shut him down so quickly that he didn’t bother bringing it up again. And that’s the way she likes it, uncomplicated and drama free. She never wants to think about Phoenix unless she has to.

“Where are you from?” she dodges. “Clearly not from here, unless there’s an entire underground English community that I’m not aware of.”

He chuckles at that and she likes it. It’s warm and soft and inviting. “Oh you haven’t heard about that? You been livin’ under a rock? No, I’m from a lovely place called Colchester. Then I moved to London for a couple of years only to wind up in the states.”

She doesn’t want to ask because she swore to herself not to get invested but it comes tumbling out of her mouth anyway, “So did you start out in Albuquerque or?”

“No I was in New York for a couple of months, then Florida for a few more, then LA and now here.”

  1. She called it.



“Oh why’d you bounce around so much?”

“Well I thought I’d like the big city but then when I moved out to LA I loved it because it’s not as fast paced as New York but finding work as a teacher and trying to accommodate just became too stressful. Plus the city was still far too large for me.”

Regina had nearly chokes on her coffee when she hears his occupation. “You’re a teacher?”

Crazy enough, so is she, but he does not need to know that. All she needs is to have something in common with him. Then he may never leave her alone.

“Yep.”

“Let me guess… middle school English teacher?”

“Oh,” he sucks in a breath between his teeth, “close but I’m actually a kindergarten teacher.”

“You teach kindergarten?”

“Mhm.”

She purses her lips, mulling the idea over, “Hmph, seems fitting for you.”

“Yeah?” he raises his eyebrows.

“Well yes of course. Your natural habitat. A child with more children.”

He’s chuckling again and it exacerbates Regina’s irritation once more. It’s as if he’s laughing at her and well she isn’t terribly fond of being the butt end of someone’s joke.

“You wouldn’t last a day,” he surmises.

“You think I couldn’t?” Given she knew how difficult it is to be a kindergarten teacher. Covering once for Mary Margaret Blanchard had been enough to last a lifetime. But Regina teaches second grade so it’s not like there’s a vast difference and not to mention, she totally can handle kindergarteners, but it just isn’t her favorite thing to do.

He shakes his head, “Not a chance. You’re princess behavior would have you squirming and running out the door in seconds.”

“I’m not a princess,” she grumbles.

“Yeah okay,” he returns sarcastically.

She shifts forward into his personal space now, “If anything, I would be a queen.”

He immediately threw up his hands in innocence, “Oh yes, forgive me Your Majesty.”

“I’ll spare you your head today.”

And there goes his laugh again. The more it kept happening the more desperate she became to make it happen again. His laughter could light up the whole room.

Silence takes its place then, enveloping them. She has no idea what to say next so she places the teaspoon in her coffee and swirls it mindlessly while propping the side of her face into her palm.

“What do you do?”

She leans back up to look at him and when she gets a good look at his face, she thinks to just be honest and tell him. She wants to be honest with him. How can she lie to those beautiful blue eyes? It’d be like lying to the sky itself.

But she can’t bring herself to tell him. She doesn’t want to relate or connect.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m no Saint Kindergarten Teacher,” she says teasingly.

He laughs again (thankfully!) but doesn’t press the matter any further, which makes her think that he doesn’t care to get to know her really either. Perhaps, he’s just making small talk to waste time. Regina can’t help but feel disheartened by it, her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach. Yeah, she wants avoidance too but now suddenly it doesn’t feel like such a great idea. She likes being wanted. Maybe that’s selfish but it’s ridiculous to think that others don’t feel the same way. The whole world revolves around attention. Every person thinks the sun shines out of their ass and they spend their days finding someone who will remind them of that.

“Yes it’s difficult to amount to my superiority.” She notices his chest swell.

Don’t look.

Damn it.

He had a large chest, broad and muscled. His t-shirt carefully outlined each curvature of it and Regina tries to think of anything else because she can feel the heat rising to her face as it tries to consume her thoughts.

He’s not that cute.

He’s dirty.

He sleeps around.

She needs to get a grip. She just got laid last night and suddenly, the next day, she’s hot for this mysterious, elusive teacher.

Except, she’s not hot for him because she’s a respectable lady who doesn’t just jump at any man and she sure as hell isn’t gonna let some random guy jump at her. So what if he has muscles? Big whoop, so does Graham. But Graham is “stay the night” material whereas this guy is totally only a one night stand kind of guy.

“How do you do it?” she blurts out.

“Do what?”

“Sleep around like you do and then go care for children?”

“How do you do it?”

She’s affronted, “Mine’s not the same thing. You know that.”

He waves it off, “It’s virtually the same thing. Yours is just with one person. Mine is with a few.”

“So because I won’t commit wholly to Graham, you and I are one in the same?”

“Are you allowed to see other people?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, we are one in the same.”

She grows bitter with each passing second. Who is he to tell her how her relationship is. Yes, they aren’t exclusive but Regina has been exclusive and as much as she stays over now, she feels that Graham has been too. (Although, she isn’t naïve so she wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t.) So they don’t label their relationship, how does that make her like the scoundrel in front of her?

She guesses he can tell she’s still perplexed because he tacks on a further explanation. “I use my non-commitment to extend to multiple people; you use it to manipulate one. But essentially no different.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“But not false,” he postulates.

She has no answer. One because she knows that he’s too stubborn to listen—ironic how the tables have turned on her—and two because she’s not sure that she disagrees. However, there’s no way she’d tell him that. So she tells him that it’s so ridiculous that she can’t dignify that with an answer.

He’s quick to see right through that though, “Whatever you say princess.”

“Not a princess.”

“Right my apologies, Your Majesty.”

“Better,” she sighs.

Silence again takes control and she lets it so she can assess the man across from her and she’s sure he’s doing the same since he’s reclined backwards and his eyes are pinched into scrutiny.

“You know that Graham guy is a lucky bastard. You’re fairly attractive.” He finally says.

“Fairly?”

“Mmm…” But he has a growing smirk again and she can’t tell if he’s serious.

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Look, this was… nice,” she grimaces, “but I have to go.”

“Off to your big illustrious life, Your Majesty?”

Yes, if he considers illustrious as a huge empty apartment with nothing but a mewing cat and spic ‘n spanned rooms. God, she needs a life.

“Yes,” she answers airily. “And big and illustrious does not involve dirty hallway boys.”

“That’s quite true,” he nods acceptingly.

“Yes well, I must get to it so—“

“Right, of course,” He stands and hops down from his chair, walking over to her to extend a hand to assist her descent, which she takes humbly.

His hand lingers for a moment on hers once she gets down and she almost says something until he shifts her hand in his. He shakes it then, cordially and respectfully. But his eyes tell a different story; they are warm and friendly, as well as piercing.

“Thank you for doing this with me. I had a great time.” His soft smile makes her crazy and she could turn into a puddle right in front of him.

She should thank him and tell him that she had a good time. Honestly, it wasn’t as dreadful as she worried that it would be. She should show her appreciation that he was an intriguing conversationalist and didn’t make for a horrible experience. But none of that comes out. Instead, she’s shaking his hand now and smiling just as formally as the handshake is.

This is it. After this moment, the hallway sex bandit would be out of her life. He’s nearly slept with every girl in the rooms around Graham so she’d probably never see him again. The thought creates a small pang in her stomach that she can’t shake. But she just had to ignore it. Getting tied up in a life like his is just a cry for trouble.

“Well I must be off. Thanks for the coffee.” Her voice is really soft now.

“Don’t thank me, thank Ruby.”

“What?” she asks even though she knows what he meant. He stole that gift card from her. Unbelievable. And yet, it has her grinning like an idiot.

“I’ll be sure to send her a muffin basket,” she calls behind her as she walks away, mostly to conceal her smile.

“Hey wait!” He calls after her and she turns back to face him with an inquisitive smirk. “I didn’t catch your name.”

Her smirk only grows bigger as she paces closer to him. She doesn’t know what possesses her to do it but once she’s close, she looks him dead in the eyes and says, “That’s for the second hallway rendezvous.”

And then she’s gone, blending into the streets of Albuquerque, hoping to find her way back to that hallway soon.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: The points of view will alternate between Regina and Robin. So this one is gonna be in Robin’s POV. Hope you enjoy!

 

Robin Locksley is a dirty liar; not really though. He _is_ a kindergarten teacher, just not currently employed as one. But that’s his goal today, to finally settle down and be employed at Blanchard Orchard Elementary School. And that should be the case, so long as his interview goes well today.

To say he’s terrified is a vast understatement and he’s unsure of why he’s fretting so much, but his steering wheel is now drenched from his sweaty palms and that’s with the air on full blast.

This job is his final shot at staying in the states, otherwise he has no choice but to return home with his tail between his legs and ask his father for more money. He’d sworn that he was going to go far and didn’t need his parents’ help  but now he’s in a bind, running out of the last bit of money that they gave him, trying to keep up his appearances.

Honestly, the reason that he’d been staying in a different girl's apartment most nights is because he didn’t exactly have a place of his own. Some nights he does have to opt to stay in his car and well that’s a nightmare, to say the least, but it is what it is.

The girls at the clubs are incredibly easy though, he bats his eyelashes once and they melt. Even the girls, who won’t budge at first, fall prey once they’ve been fed his pity party. They’re like absolute putty in his hands. The bouncer at the Rabbit Hole, a place Robin frequented, caught onto his shenanigans and Robin thought, for sure, that he would be asked to leave and to never come back but even he managed to fall under Robin’s spell. Robin told him his pitiful tale and even chipped in an offer to help the guy catch his own ladies- needless to say, the bouncer was sold. Best part of the whole thing was that Robin had managed to get the bouncer to let him use the club's address for when he applies for his job today.

Robin Locksley, a con artist master.

The bouncer—John is his name—even offered to allow Robin to stay at his place as his roommate, said he’s looking for one after his friend Tuck moved out. But Robin humbly declined, telling John that he didn’t want to put him out, but that if the offer is still on the table after he gets the job, then he’d gladly take it.

That’s the least of his worries right now, though; he has to get the job, first. That’s all that matters.

[:]

He gets there at 9:00, despite his appointment being at half past, and his palms are still shaking and soaked. He can’t go into this meeting looking like a total disaster, so when the secretary tells him to wait in the lobby until the principal is done with his 8:45, then he'll come and fetch him, Robin excuses himself to the restroom, begging himself to get a grip. He’s got one chance and now is not the time to turn into a raving mad lunatic for the principal to see.

He washes his hands meticulously while glaring hard into the mirror. _You can do this, mate. You’ve got this._

The hand washing is in vain, because as soon as he returns to the lobby in the front office, his hands are slick again. So he just sits down and taps his foot wildly against the carpet, knee bouncing in a steady pattern.

He tries to think of ways to pass the time, darting his eyes around the office to see if anything catches his eye. Then he thinks about whether to call John up and see about the roommate offer or consider getting his own place but he stops quickly so that he doesn’t jinx himself.

What else?

After a winding train of thoughts, they land on hallway girl. Her Majesty.

Oh, if he had her name. But alas, he doesn’t, not yet, but he will. He’ll have her figured out in no time at all and then he can stop this nonsense of thinking about her. And he’ll relish in that day, that’s for sure. But, of course, his mind has turned its back on his dislike of her, instead, focusing on the odds of seeing her again. He can’t keep going back to that complex. He has to start finding new prospects.

Maybe he’ll never see her again and that’s a good thing, right?

“Mr. Locksley?”

He’s torn away from his thoughts and turns his gaze over to the secretary.

“Mr. Nolan will see you now.”

Robin follows closely behind as she leads him into the office in the back.

It’s huge but very bland. There’s a massively large desk in the center with one of those ergonomic executive chairs sitting behind it. The desk itself had a state of the art Mac in the corner, as well as a stapler, a calendar in the middle and two jars, one for paper clips and the other for pens of a plethora of colors. The last thing on his desk was a luminous gold name plate that read _David Nolan, Principal._

The only other thing in the room was an American flag and a New Mexican flag in opposite corners behind the desk and then the sheer white curtains covering both windows.

“Robin Locksley?” he heard along with the creak of the door behind him.

His head swivels around to find a man, in a nicely tailored ensemble, far too warm for this weather, with sandy blonde hair and soft blue eyes. The man also carries a warm smile that has Robin feeling instantly calmer about the whole interview, hopefully the newfound serenity will stay.

They shake hands as Robin rises and then David scurries around his desk to plop in his chair.

“Welcome to Blanchard Orchard,” he says formally.

“Thank you,” Robin answers in equal tone and measure. “Very lovely place.”

David nods a thank you and paces his glances around each of the walls in his line of sight for who knows what reason. “So tell me about yourself, Mr. Locksley. Where are you from?”

“Colchester, originally, then here.” He decides to leave out all his other pit stops. It makes him sound too much like a drifter and that’s in poor taste for his image.

“And why Albuquerque?”

“It’s a nice place. Read about it once, so I came for a visit and well, I’m still here.” Robin chuckles nervously.

“And why did you choose Blanchard Orchard?”

“Honestly?” Robin squirms a little in his chair and he curses himself for doing so. “Well, it’s the first good offer I found.”

David reclines in his chair, scrutinizing Robin just like Robin had done to hallway girl the other day at Starbucks. (Why does she keep coming up?!) Frankly, he isn’t a fan of being on the other side of things.

“And are you pleased so far with your experience?” The principal's eyes continue to pierce right through Robin and Robin can only feel the panic creeping in.

“Absolutely.”

“Excellent. So what makes you think that we should take you on here at Blanchard Orchard?”

“Well, I adore working with children, they make the world so much brighter and it’s almost like when you take on a job as a teacher, you get two jobs: one as a teacher and one as a student. You can teach the kids so much but, in turn, you actually learn so much. I believe this fine establishment values just that and I want to be a part of it; I love the idea of the whole experience.”

It is a speech that Robin has rehearsed several times before. Talk their business up. Nothing makes employers melt like giving them the idealized version of their business and then idolizing it as if it were the most magical thing ever. Robin has done it countless times and succeeded with many of them. In fact, the whole concept worked for many facets of his life. It’s easy to appease anyone if you talk them up, making them feel like the center of the universe.

Robin can tell he aced that question by the swell in David’s chest. Sucker.

He’ll have the man eating out of his bloody palm by the end of this, if he’s lucky. So he goes for the compliment jugular. He knows a vague history of the place. Leopold Blanchard, an older tycoon, who came from a bunch of old money, met his wife Eva in the Hamptons one summer and fell in love. But, of course, as the story goes, Eva didn’t live in the Hamptons. As it would turn out, she was from none other than Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Leo was quick to offer her anything and everyone was rather shocked when they came to find out that Eva had asked for a school to be erected. He obliged immediately, no surprise, and before the city knew it, the school was built and ready for use. The school board appointed Leo as the principal despite his lack of knowledge in the field of education and the rest is history.

“I’m certain that’s what the Blanchards intended. Very admirable, don’t you think?”

Robin can tell by the glint in David’s eye that he is successful yet again.

“I can tell you from firsthand experience that that was exactly their intention.”

“Oh?”

“Well Leo hired me when he chose to retire and they’re also my in-laws so it’s been made pretty clear,” David lets out a hearty laugh, which Robin adds to (always let them think they’re the funniest guy in the room).

“In-laws, huh?”

“Yeah, after I was hired, of course. Don’t want to be accused of nepotism here,” he laughs again. “But yeah, I got hired and met this kindergarten teacher Mary Margaret, who just so happened to be Leo’s daughter. She’s the one you’re replacing so you have big shoes to fill.”

It’s daring but he goes ahead with it, “Oh am I to kiss you and call you honey because I missed that on the job description.” Feigning recovery, he adds, “I’m totally fine with it, just curious.”

He has David guffawing then, “Good because I expect it every day.”

Robin does a small salute back, “So is she leaving for good?”

“No, she’s just chosen to take a year off, but if our numbers go as projected we’re going to be in need for another kindergarten teacher within the next year or two. So my wife will be coming back, just not for this school year. It’s a whole long story that I hope you don’t mind me telling you and I hope you’ll use your discretion: we had an unfortunate experience with our first child so Mary Margaret has felt the need to stay with our son, Neal, this time around.” David avoids eye contact, so Robin assumes that their experience must have been traumatic.

He feels sympathy for David, for whatever happened, but Robin doesn’t pry, he doesn't want to make matters worse. He does, however, respectfully nod and murmur a needless apology. He figures they lost the child, which is a feeling Robin can’t imagine. He doesn’t have children and doesn’t plan on having any, certianly not anytime soon. He’d be a shit dad, that’s without a doubt, wouldn’t know how to be a dad if it were written in a manual right in front of him. But he does feel bad for the poor man.

He’s let the silence linger far too long so he goes for a diversion.

“Is that him? You're father-in-law, I mean,” Robin points to the painting serving as the back drop to David’s desk. Robin knows it’s him, he’s not a total idiot, but it’s conversation and the longer Robin keeps this up, the better his chances are, well so long as, he keeps his sodding foot out of his mouth.

David turns to follow the direction of Robin’s finger. “Yep, that’s him. Leo Blanchard founder and former principal of this ‘fine establishment.’”

“Magnificent looking chap.”

“I think he likes to think so,” David shrugs then shifts back into boss mode. After that, he goes about asking Robin a series of questions that everyone knows how to answer properly by now; things about tardiness/punctuality, drinking/drugs, and the like.

When he finishes, David sighs. He looks pleased and Robin feels good. Although, he shouldn’t jinx himself, so he dismisses the thought.

“Anything to add, Mr. Locksley?”

“Not at all, sir.”

They rise together and shake hands.

It’s over.

[:]

Nearly another week passes before the news finally arrives.

The first ring is the warning, the second for his heartbeat and the third to answer. “Hello?”

“Hello, Robin?” It sounds like David’s voice.

“This is he.”

“Hey, it’s David Nolan. I just wanted to call and personally welcome you aboard the Blanchard Orchard team.”

Had Robin not been sitting in his car, he probably would’ve flown through the roof. He got the job! He could stay. He could start a life. Robin Locksley, class A cock up, had managed to do something right in his miserable life. Now his parents could actually shove off. He’ll never have to ask them for money so long as he keeps this job.

The only thing missing now is a place to stay and for someone to share in his joy.

The phone rings three more times.

“Hello?”

“John? Hey mate, it’s Robin. I was wondering if that offer is still on the table.”

[:]

Robin has finally got his life together. He’s got a job and a place now. He’s achieved what he intended when he originally wound up in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Now, all he needs is someone to share it with. Not that John isn’t splendid company, but Robin was thinking of a more partner type of situation and, well, Robin was in the market for a Joan, rather than a John.

Lately, all Robin could think about was that damn girl he’d met in the hallway. He doesn’t know why she keeps popping up, but she does and it's driving him mad. She was just some girl.

Perhaps he’s smitten.

Not really, though, because Robin Locksley is never smitten and never will be for that matter.  He can’t be. Sure, it’d be ideal to find a girl that makes him feel like he could give up all the running around and maybe he’d find her but for now, it doesn’t look to be in the cards. However, it would be a downright manky lie if he said he hadn’t given one thought to hallway girl since they met. It’s not like he has a crush on her—not at all, but he had had a great time with her. She was witty and had a sharp tongue. She bit back like a viper and if Robin’s being honest, he found it rather admirable.

She was admirable altogether.

But then there’s her whole snarky attitude which is a wee bit of a drawback. She’s the type of girl who thinks so highly of herself that she’d rather only talk about Leonardo da Vinci than Leonardo di Caprio. Sure, she’s smarter than all the broads he’d slept with in that apartment complex combined, an entirely annoying fact, but he can’t shake the feeling of how he craves it. He wants to pick her brain and see what she thinks. It gets so tiring after awhile of just having meaningless, flirtatious talks. Although, that’s the life he chose (for good reason, of course) but he wasn’t daft so he liked relishing in his conversation with hallway girl.

She’s intelligent and invigorating.

Somehow, he’s back at Ruby’s again and he thinks to ask of hallway girl’s name but he somehow sees that going terribly awry. But he’s stuck on her.

He knows what this is about, of course. She’s elusive, a puzzle he needs to figure out and then once he does, he’ll move on and she’ll be nothing more to him than a mystery solved. That’s it.

Ruby makes a soft sound next to him in bed and it dawns on him that he’s stayed far too long. He actually shouldn’t be here in the first place. He doesn’t usually double dip when it comes to ladies but he’d ran into Ruby last night, at the bar, when he and John were celebrating and, well, one thing led to another so that now he’s lying totally bare, next to her, wearing nothing but his own miserable regret.

Ruby’s a beautiful girl, no doubt about it, but she’s also just his type—no strings attached. Robin isn’t one for cling-ons. She knows this though; well she knew it when it was a onetime thing. Perhaps, she’ll still understand that once he leaves that those rules still apply.

Robin takes a quick glance at the clock. 7:45. He’d been trying, in vain, for just over a week now to run into hallway girl, failing miserably every day. But he’s determined to run into her again.

He thinks maybe that is why he’s back in Ruby’s room, hoping to catch his new enigma. But that can’t be it. She’s not his concern. It was just a coincidence, they flirted, and now it’s over. He’s never going to see her again. And that’s fine. That’s how it should be. A clean break, just how he likes it.

But this doesn’t stop him from getting up and sliding into his trousers so that he can get out into that very hallway, except he tells himself that it’s only because he needs to avoid his morning with Ruby, not for any other reason.

Only when he stumbles out into the hallway and hears the creak of a door from across the way does he consider that, perhaps, he’s telling himself one gigantic lie. He nervously glances over to the sound and, sure enough, there she is, tiptoeing gracefully out of apartment 3B. She is a beautiful woman, he’ll give her that—even in this state with her hair disheveled and make up nearly nonexistent. And gods, are her legs a sight, long, toned and tanned.

Oh for chrissake.

He thinks not to say anything, to just watch as she tries to slip away but he has to talk to her, he knows that. So he bucks up and calls out, “Well hey there, Your Majesty.”

Her head darts up quickly and her chocolate covered irises meet his blue ones, which didn’t help his need to scan her over. It’s not a big deal. He’s seen plenty of beautiful women in his lifetime; she’s not the first and she sure as hell won’t be the last.

When she’s got him into focus, she utters one word, “Thief.”

It should piss him off but it only has him grinning like a fool. “Ah yes, I’m still waiting on Ruby’s muffin basket so that I can reap the benefits.”

He watches as she rolls her eyes but casts her face downward to avoid looking at him, surely to hide her smile. That’s something else about her that he likes. He got to see it, albeit briefly, when they went for coffee, but he knew from the first moment he saw it that her smile was special; and he couldn’t help but hope that those around her made her grin constantly. He can’t see why they wouldn’t since it’s so remarkable, but he figures it still isn’t one she shows often. She seems like the type who doesn’t smile enough but instead frets needlessly over everything, like she has to take care of the entire world. He hopes that someone, at least, attempts to make her smile.

“Is that what you’re doing still at her place then?” she jabs.

It’s his turn to smile and he can’t resist because she’s clever and easily keeps him on his toes. “Yes, well, a man must eat somehow.”

“That gift card wasn’t enough to last you?”

“Nope,” he sighs, feigning defeat. “You see I managed to waste it on this dreadful little diva I met a while back.”

“Well, I feel sorry for her.”

“Why’s that?”

She turns her face back up, “Because she had to go out with you.”

He saunters over to her then, slowly and deliberately and her eyes skim quickly over him, trying to figure out what exactly he’s doing. He gets close to her, like he did at Starbucks several days ago. He likes being in her face, feeling the heat from her, in their proximity, merely for the tease and drive her mad, he assures himself.

“I don’t think she feels that bad,” he conjectures.

“Oh?” Her breath his warm across his face but he can tell she’s restricting it. Does he smell?

“Well, I figure she wouldn’t still be talking to me if she didn’t have at least a decent time with me.”

“Or, maybe, she hopes you’ll stop following her if she talks to you this one time,” she challenges. She walks away then, leaving him grasping for some sort of retort, but seems to be an issue when he’s getting a pleasant view of her arse again.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Perhaps,” she slurs out as she turns away from the staircase, “the one flattering themselves is not me. Don’t be upset that, for once, a woman thinks of highly enough of herself not fling herself at you.”

He’s slightly annoyed this time. “Don’t assume that I want you flinging yourself at me, darling.”

She rolls her eyes again but doesn’t give a verbal answer and instead looks at the watch on her wrist. “Look, I have to go again.”

“Always running off to somewhere. What, afraid you’ll turn into a pumpkin? Maybe you are a princess and I should call you Cinderella,” he smirks.

“I have things to do. Maybe you should invest in a hobby, other than sleeping with women and stealing her things, of course.” And with that she starts down the stairs.

“Hey,” he calls out and she turns once more.

“What?”

“You haven’t told me your name. You said for our second hallway rendezvous, you’d tell me your name. So let’s hear it.”

She pauses, clearly contemplating on answering, he presumes, which only reassures him that her intention was to never see him again. She must have hoped that he’d slept with the whole floor and thus would never cross her path. Fate can be a bitch. Although, to be fair, he kind of pushed fate to reunite them, so it may not exactly count that way.

She lifts an eyebrow and he thinks that she’s not going to tell him, but then she softens and utters out her name.

“Regina.”

What a beautiful name, and he tells her so, adding that it is “fit for a queen.”

“I’m Robin, by the way. Robin Locksley,” he extends his hand.

She doesn’t take it, instead tells him, “A name fit for a thief.”

And then she’s gone once more.

 


	3. Chapter Three

Regina enjoys the summer time, mostly because she doesn’t have to work and she can finally catch up on the long reading list she develops over the school year (occasionally that list also extends to a few trashy television shows), but late July can be a bitch as far as the weather goes. And today is one of those days. It’s sweltering, with a high of 97 that feels more like 107. Even with her swamp cooler on full blast, she still feels like she’s going to melt into a puddle.

But that’s not the worst part of today. Graham is leaving for his two week camping trip, in Colorado, with some of his buddies from the sheriff’s station. She shouldn’t be this upset, she knows that, but she can’t fight off the feeling that she might miss him. She’d made sure, for so long, that she’d kept her distance, that when she is finally, actually getting some, she realizes that maybe she doesn’t want it after all. She’s got to put on a good face though, pretend like she’s more than fine with him being gone for two weeks. And she will be because she isn’t attached to Graham. He’s free to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants.

That’s the rules and she can abide by those.

It’s still nagging at her, though, when she wakes up at his place the next morning. She thinks to maybe ask him to stay, knowing he won’t, but just to get reassurance that he’s not going anywhere. Although, she doesn’t need it because she will be fine on her own; she’s always been on her own, nearly her entire life, so she’ll manage. She doesn’t need Graham around to be happy or anything, she tells herself.

She and Graham aren’t even a thing, not officially anyway.

She had started staying with him more, and later as well. They finally have moved to a ‘stay for breakfast’ situation but they hadn’t outright said that they were officially a couple.

Not that she needs to be defined as a couple with Graham but, still, it'd be nice.

She’s being foolish, and she keeps reminding herself of this, but her track record with men isn’t in pristine condition and, well, she hopes time away with his buddies won’t convince him that maybe being with Regina isn’t such a great idea.

God, she’s being neurotic.

It’s two weeks.

She can handle two weeks.

But the nagging is still there, ever-present and overbearing. She doesn’t climb out of bed quite yet, but, instead, shifts to look at him. He’d be nice to look at if his snoring wasn’t like a foghorn; she can’t help but to smile in spite of it though.

Yes, she is going to miss him.

Regina frowns to herself. She can already hear her mother’s voice in her head, telling her that she’s a foolish girl and that falling for this boy would be a fatal mistake.

_Love is weakness, Regina._

That was the popular mantra in her household, growing up. Funny thing was that her mother was married to her father. Although, Regina wasn’t, and still isn’t, naïve. Cora never loved Daddy. Cora never loved anyone, not even Regina.

Tinka, one of Regina’s friends and the guidance counselor at Blanchard Orchard Elementary school, where they work, tells her often that Regina’s commitment issues stem from her lack of one with Cora.

It pisses Regina off, of course, and she has to remind Tinka that she doesn’t need to be psychoanalyzed. And, not to mention, there’s nothing wrong with not wanting to settle down right away. What’s the issue with having a long term partner before, irrationally, jumping into a possibly damaging relationship?

Regina sees it far too often. It’s the same old story. Girl meets boy, they hang out, guy wants sex, girls want the next step and that's how they wind up married and hating each other.

And then there’s also the children factor that gets added in.

She’d be a nightmare as a mother. Yes, she’s a teacher but that’s substantially different. She doesn’t have to be there 24/7 for all the little things. As a teacher, all she has to do is make sure the kids are cared for between the hours of 8:30 in the morning and 2 in the afternoon. But she doesn’t need maternal instinct for that, not really.

But, either way, Regina Mills is just not ready for a family—hell, she doesn’t even know if she’ll ever be ready. For now, though, it’s a definite no. She does not want to be some dolled up housewife and she certainly doesn’t want to spend her entire day caring for children-the public's, then her own.

That’s not to say she doesn’t love her job, because she does, but she likes having her evenings to herself. And maybe that’s selfish and wholly characteristic of her mother, but that’s just how she likes it and that’s how it’s going to be for now.

So distracted over Cora, Regina nearly doesn’t notice that Graham has stopped snoring.

“You ok?” he’s frowning when she puts him back into focus.

“What?”

“You look upset. You alright?” He’s genuinely concerned and Regina feels her heart float up a bit, only to curse herself for it.

She shifts her eyes downward, “Yeah, of course I’m fine.”

“If you’re upset about me going on this trip you can just say so.” He moves closer to her now, so that she can feel his breath skim her forehead as he breathes out of his nose.

“No, if you want to go, go.”

“But do _you_ want me to go?”

No.

But she doesn’t say that. Instead she sighs ambivalently. “I'm not going to tell you that you can’t go. Besides I’m not in that type of position to tell you such a thing.”

“What do you mean?”

Great. This is not a conversation she wants to have now. If only she’d kept her big mouth shut, but she just had to make matters worse. She can never leave well enough alone. That’s exactly something else Cora used to tell her, especially right before she left for Phoenix for good.

Of course everything leads her back to Phoenix.

She just wants to forget about the whole thing so she murmurs a nothing, pecks Graham on the lips and then, slides out of bed. He follows quickly behind her though, walking swiftly with her to the bathroom, eventually catching up enough to snake his arms around her waist and place his chin into the crook of her neck. She doesn’t turn into him but instead looks straight into the mirror, admiring their reflection.

It’s so couple-y.

She’s moved to ask again, to see if he ever thinks of them of having the potential of something else. It’s childish, though, very ‘middle school’ so she says nothing and instead let’s her eyes flutter shut and relish in it, for just a moment; to just be a foolish girl for a second.

“What’re you thinking about?” He kisses the crook where his chin had been, then moves to her shoulder, alternating between pecking and nipping.

She says nothing but merely hums, leaving her eyes closed.

“Want to give me a proper goodbye?”

Her eyes pop open to see a devilish grin on his face. When they make eye contact, he jerks his head in the direction of the shower and she nods mischievously in response.

Graham’s a good lover, she’ll give him that.

He’s enticing in the way that he’s slamming her into the wall, groping at her ass while she hikes her leg up his thigh, and he’s kissing her greedily all over.

And he’s always quick to have her going, especially now, as he’s thrusting inside of her. She ponders if they should slow down and savor it, since it will be the last time they sleep together for two whole weeks. But it seems that Graham has other ideas because it’s not long before he’s grunting in her ear and she’s coming hard. Graham follows quickly after and then it’s done and they just stand there breathing heavily.

That is the last time they’ll have sex.

Well, she could go again.

No, they need to pack for him. His friends will be there in a few hours.

So she settles down and gives Graham one long final, heartfelt kiss before reaching for her shampoo bottle.

“I love you, you know that?” He says as she’s lathering, and Regina nearly falls over.

Did he just say?

She panics immediately. Graham loves her?

He loves her.

Does this mean he does consider them a couple? And that she can handle. She can be Graham’s girlfriend but love?

Wait, is she supposed to say it back? Does she even love him back?

They’ve only been together for a couple of months. An _I love you_ is just too soon. To be fair, there isn’t ever an exact right time to say those words but she and Graham barely know each other.

She thinks maybe he’s just as insecure over the whole thing as she is.

She turns to face him, then, to see a hopeful gleam in his eye. That’s when she knows she can’t say it back. She doesn’t love him. She cares for him, more than she thought she would when they first started this, but not enough to call it love, not enough to jump in front of a speeding car or to take a bullet for him- that's what love feels like, right?

Perhaps, she should say it back though because, maybe, it’s not about her meaning it, but instead about him hearing it. Or worse, maybe she should say it because, god forbid, something happens to him on his trip and he wouldn't know that she, at least, cares for him. But that’s all silly. She cannot lead him on, that would be too cruel.

So she says nothing, merely looks at him, blinking steadily.

Then he removes his touch, backing away slowly. “Okay, not the right time to say that, got it.”

“It’s not that,” she says quickly, throwing her hands in her face.

“What then?”

“It’s nothing,” she dismisses. “I don’t want to fight about it before you leave.”

“Oh.”

She nods, certain that he’s understood.

He doesn’t say anything after that but just gets out of the shower solemnly while she curses herself behind the curtain. He slips a towel to her and then she can hear him padding out of the room.

She couldn’t have just said it back.

She dries off and wraps the towel around her while she steps out of the shower. Looking for Graham isn’t hard, he had went straight to the bedroom to make up his bed. He’s paying far too much attention to how much of the blanket is on each side. He paces back and forth, pulling down one side, only to go over to the other side and do the same thing. And then he repeats.

Regina has done it now. Wonderful.

“Are you mad?” she asks meekly.

“No,” he answers shortly.

“Graham, I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m not ready, okay?”

“Regina, it’s fine.”

It’s not fine, she knows. She can tell by his whole demeanor and, frankly, it makes her want to hit him. He’s being very childish and it’s grating her last nerve. She thinks to just grab her things and walk out but she’s an adult and can handle this.

She huffs out angrily. “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” he’s getting defensive.

“Like you’re some wounded puppy dog.”

“I am not.”

“Oh please.”

“Maybe stop being a bitch.”

That does it. Oh, if she could produce fire, she would in that instance. How is she some cold hearted bitch because she doesn’t want to lead her lover on?

She says nothing and saunters over to his closet, snatching out several shirts that she knows he’ll want to take with him. After she’s tossed them on the bed, she begins to fold them meticulously. She doesn’t look up to snap at him next. “Go get the rest of your things. I have this. Your friends will be here soon.”

She realizes she may not miss him that much, after all.

[:]

An hour and some minutes have passed and Graham is finally all packed up. They still haven’t spoken and made sure to barely cross paths as they packed things away. But now they’re alone with nothing to keep them busy, other than watch the clock tick on.

They’re sitting in the kitchen. Graham is darting his eyes back and forth around the room, looking at anything but Regina while she’s staring (harder than she should be) at his luggage, going through her mental checklist and ticking off everything that should be listed.

It’s a solid five or so minutes before Graham asks if she’s sure she doesn’t want breakfast, to which she formally declines, knowing that his offer of breakfast consists of either Pop Tarts or a quick run to the McDonald’s down the street, neither of which she’s terribly keen about.  So they fall back into their perpetual silence, with Regina going over that damn list again for the umpteenth time.

She considers just leaving, pecking him on the cheek and seeing herself out, rather than staying to see him off with his friends. But she does want to watch him go, so she stays glued to her seat despite the uncomfortable tension restricting the air in the room now.

Oh.

Speaking of food, she remembers that they should dump out anything that’ll go bad within the next two weeks. She hops down from her seat at the bar and rushes over to the refrigerator, thankful to do anything to pass the time. She skims over the contents and chooses the milk first. It actually went out of date the day before. Men. She pulls it out and goes to dump what’s left in the jug, into the sink.

“What are you doing?” he inquires.

“Throwing out what won’t be good when you get back,” she answers back icily.

“Oh.”

And then he says nothing else so she proceeds to file out the rest of the stuff.

As aggravating as some of his friends are, she’d give just about anything for them to finally show up.

The universe must have heard because seconds later, his phone is ringing. He answers and she can hear a little bit of bitterness in his voice but he nods nevertheless and delves out a few ‘okays’ and then hangs up.

“They’ll be here in five minutes.”

[:]

It’s actually fifteen minutes before they show up and Regina is fully agitated. They all have no concept of time, Graham included. Honestly, she can’t really stand any of them because they’re loud and obnoxious and incredibly thick brained.

She can hear them as they come barreling up the stairs, one of them cheering—Leroy, most likely. Why did she choose to sleep with a guy who feels the need to have the most boneheaded friends in the entire world? Seriously, they are like actual children and she can’t bear the thought of babysitting children, let alone, grown people, 24/7.

But perhaps Graham _is_ one of those childish types that need to be babysat and she’d overlooked it.

And there’s Cora’s voice again, mocking her and telling her how foolish she is.

_You could do so much better for yourself Regina. You’re a beautiful girl and it is beyond me why you would stoop so low, dear. You have the potential to do greatness and instead you go gallivanting off with some boy because you’re suddenly so love struck that you’re blinded from your potential. Really, dear, get a grip._

Regina feels her physical grip tighten on the counter. Now is not the time to be thinking of mother, and yet, here she is unable to shake her.

But maybe she’s right. Maybe this whole tryst with Graham is entirely foolish. And perhaps she has dipped out of her league.

He was charming, though, when they first met. It was at a housewarming party for the new Nolans. They’d just moved in and they invited all their friends over to celebrate.

Graham was an old college buddy of David’s and, so naturally, he was there.

Regina wasn’t exactly sure why she’d been invited, though. It’s not that she dislikes the Nolans; it’s just that they aren’t precisely her type. Yes, she’s courteous to them but she wouldn’t call it overt friendliness, or anything. She, most certainly, isn’t close to either of them, but she supposed they felt the need to invite her anyway.

It could have been a pity thing. Maybe they thought she was really lonely and needed to get out. Although, Regina does have a group of friends at the school so it’s not like she’s vastly anti-social. It also could’ve been a courtesy thing, where they invited her but assumed that she wouldn’t show up, which is fair, given that Kathryn is one of her best friends and Regina almost didn’t go.

But she’d let Tinka talk her into it.

And it turned out not to be so bad. People were chatting all throughout the house. There were several familiar faces (all, of which, she politely greeted) and a few unfamiliar ones.

Regina had clung to Tinka most of the night, however, because she didn’t exactly want to make conversation if she didn’t have to. But Regina knew as soon as Tinka got the look in her eyes after she spotted Graham looking at them, that she was doomed.

Suddenly, Tinka had to pee and Regina was left alone to her own devices.

It didn’t take Graham long before he approached her, sauntering up to her in a rather cute way. He’d tripped on his way, gracelessly stumbling the rest of the way to her and Regina was fairly certain that’s what drew her to him first. He was goofy and endearing, just what she needed in her boring old life.

He’d greeted her shyly and she knew she was sold and then they hit it off. They talked about all sorts of things. Their jobs first, of course—she teaches second grade, he is a police detective. They commended each other on their professions. Then the conversation slipped onto how he knew David, and onto hobbies and other typical beginning conversation.

They’d talked the entire rest of the evening and Regina coincidentally never saw Tinka again that night. But she liked Graham. He could hold a conversation, he was entertaining and he made her laugh a lot.

But as she’s looking at him now, greeting his friends, she wonders how it all went so downhill.

She knows the answer, of course; it’s always the same thing. She’s so good at destroying her own relationships. If she wasn’t so decidedly distant, maybe she and Graham could be something more. But she has to keep him as far away as possible.

Maybe they just don’t work though.

Maybe she’s far too distant and grown up that she just can’t keep up with the childish, clingy type. Not that she doesn’t like adventure, but she just needs someone like that who’s on the same level as her. She needs, or wants rather, someone who is fun and exhilarating like Graham but doesn’t need her, someone who can make her laugh but who isn’t around enough to make her cry.

She needs distance.

And it’s like a light bulb goes off. Perhaps, she shouldn’t be with Graham anymore. They’re too different now. They’ve changed in the few months that they’ve been together and now they just don’t work. It was fun and lovely but now it’s done.

But should she end it?

They did have a good thing going and maybe they just need to work through it. And if she is going to end it, should she wait so she doesn’t spoil his trip? Or should she proceed so that he can go freely and not worry about her back home?

Regina weighs heavily on the latter.

There’s no need to extend something that’s over, though.

Then again, maybe this two week break is exactly what she needs for a kind of cleanse, and then Graham will come back and things will be good again.

That’s terribly naïve, though.

If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. She watched her parents stay together in their disaster of a marriage for her whole life and she just can’t imagine doing the same thing to Graham that Cora did to Henry.

So that’s it then. She’s going to end things with Graham.

How had this morning gotten so turned around?

She was just supposed to stay with him, help him pack, and see him off.

But now it’s all a mess.

She thinks to pull him aside and just do it right before he leaves but her morning balance shifts again with the latest arrival of his friends.

Emma Swan.

Regina isn’t the jealous type. But if there is any girl that she wouldn’t want Graham around, it’s Emma Swan because she isn’t the typical girl that hits on Graham. She doesn’t flirt brainlessly, with the batting the eyelashes and twirling a piece of hair around her finger. Instead, she is friendly in a way that she tries to be like him, carefree and ‘one of the guys.’ Graham seems to like it, albeit, perhaps only in a platonic way but nevertheless he does give her a lot of attention.

And Emma is just obnoxious. She’s really entitled and thinks that she is just the greatest gift to this earth. But she plays so innocent, like she is the most chill and most down to earth person ever. It pisses Regina off to no end. To make matters worse, people support it, Graham included, making her think that she is just wonderful. And out of the few times that Regina has crossed paths with Emma, it’s annoyed her every single time.

So she reconsiders her plan. All she needs to do is push him right into the arms of Emma Swan.

She’ll wait until he comes back and if she is still feeling the same way, then they can sit down like two adults and discuss it.

So she says nothing at all and waits to do anything until his friend August speaks, “You all ready to go, man?”

Graham goes to pick up his things, nodding at August for his help. They get the majority on their arms and they begin to lug them out the door.

“Hey, Regina can you grab that cooler?” Graham asks and for a second it’s normal, until she looks into his face. His fatigue is apparent but so is his enmity toward her. She nods and walks over to collect the cooler without a word.

It’s not long before Leroy’s truck is all packed up. Graham is over talking to Emma and she starts to laugh at something he says. But it’s okay because Regina isn’t jealous, not over some girl flirting with Graham, and certainly not, least of all, Emma Swan.

This is all a mess and Regina has no idea what to do with her feelings. Had Graham not said anything, they wouldn’t be in this position. She wouldn’t be all mixed up about whether or not she wants to stay with Graham or if she’s just desperate for company but doesn’t really need Graham per se.

“All right let’s hit the road you jag offs,” Emma calls out.

That’s when Graham finally comes over to Regina. “Well I guess I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Yeah,” she replies quietly.

“I’ll try and call if I have time, okay?”

“Okay.”

He gives a long kiss to her cheek and then steps away, holding her gaze momentarily before going over to the truck.

She waves to them all and then watches as the truck drives out of sight.

[:]

Regina is not a day time drinker. Although, it’s getting closer to the evening. She’d gone home for a little while and tried to read _Drums of Autumn_ , because she’d like to finish the _Outlander_ series before school starts again. But she found herself unable to focus on Jamie and Claire’s newfound adventures in the Americas.

So she decides she needs a drink and that’s how she winds up at the Rabbit Hole, a bar not too far from where she lives.

She’s not much of a bar-goer either, but she needs this. She needs anything to escape her disaster of a morning. She thought to ask Kathryn or Tinka to tag along, and maybe she’ll call them in a little while, but, for now, she wants to be alone and drink.

And that’s why she’s now at the bar top, swirling the toothpick of olives in her martini glass. Gin doesn’t normally do it for her, but she uses it to decide on whether or not she just wants to have this martini and then call the girls for a night out or if she wants to get sloppy drunk and have some stranger take her home.

But instead of deciding on either, she just mopes.

“You look like you could use something more than just that,” she hears behind her.

She turns around to see the guy from the hallway. He’s looking as smug as ever and she doesn’t know whether she’s relieved or annoyed to see him.

What was his name again?

Robin.

“You just don’t know how to go away, do you?” She bites.

He chuckles, “Well if you’d stop stalking me, I might disappear.”

“If anyone is doing the stalking here it’s you.”

“No way, princess.”

She hates that nickname and she rolls her eyes to make it clear.

“You’re the one who came out in the hallway when I was already there and now you’ve come to the bar that I was already at. I might have to ask someone to get you to leave.” He’s smirking and she wants to slap it right off him.

“I was not!” she answers indignantly.

He raises an eyebrow.

“I was in that hallway first,” she finishes her defense.

“You keeping score?”

“Are you?” she retorts.

“Clearly not correctly,” he’s still smirking and she’s so annoyed that she wants to walk away, go home and watch Legally Blonde eighteen times but she doesn’t and just stares him down instead.

She thinks he can tell she’s upset because he’s furrowing his brow and reading her intensely. He keeps doing that and it’s getting very irritating.

“What’s bothering you?” he asks concernedly and, for a second, she feels all her blood drain down to her toes.

She thinks to just tell him, pour her heart out. But that’s ridiculous, he’s a stranger and she doesn’t like him. “I thought we were going to drink?”

She can tell he’s momentarily thrown off by her dismissal of his question. But he purses his lips and smirks once more. “That we can m’lady.”

“Are you going to steal these too?” she teases.

“No, I think these I’ll buy,” he says with a smirk and then he turns to the barman. “Two tequila shots please and keep them coming.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s not why this is M rated. (;


	4. Chapter Four

Fate has it out for him. Of that, Robin Locksley is sure. He was just trying to mind his own business and kick back a few with John before John started his shift. Things don’t get terribly hectic in the Rabbit Hole before 9 -10 in the evening. There’s a small influx to the bar around five, naturally, but then things don’t speed up again until then.

It was just after half past seven when he saw her, moping about at the bar like she’d just been delivered the worst news. And then the feeling crept in, the one where he needed to comfort her and he kicked himself for it because she’s not his to comfort. He doesn’t even know why he got the feeling in the first place but he did and that’s what had him asking John to excuse him and subsequently heading towards hallway girl—Regina.

She’s as witty and stunning as ever and she doesn’t disappoint in comebacks. The moment he walks over, their verbal banter has set off like a rocket. And she is firing without any warning shots.

Then there’s also the fact that she’s sexy as hell as she tips back her first drink.

He hasn’t bothered with his yet because he’s too busy watching her. And he knows he should stop but he can’t help himself.

“What?” she snaps.

“Oh, I knew you’d be a mean drunk,” he grins.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not drunk.”

“Ah yes, I forgot you’ve got a stick up your arse already when you’re sober.”

“Go to hell,” she says bitterly before she downs another.

Robin still hasn’t taken one yet and now he thinks not to. Clearly, she’s very upset over something and he doesn’t want to push or pry too hard. Perhaps, this wasn’t such a great idea. He should’ve left her alone to pout her way through her misery.

But he doesn’t want to leave her alone. He can’t leave her alone.

Bloody hell. Why’s he always feel the need to be some knight in shining armor? And as annoying as that is he still remains.

“So what did he do?”

“Huh?”

“Your lover boy. You don’t come here on the piss for nothing. Unless you’re a drunk, which is entirely impossible since you’re no fun,” he teases.

“First of all, not all drunks are fun and, two, maybe I’m just not fun around you because I don’t like you.”

Her face is scrunched up in disdain but he just chuckles.

“The last thing I want is to be liked by you.”

That’s a lie and he knows it. If he had the chance to be liked by her, he’d take it without a doubt. Not because he fancies her or anything, but merely because he’d win the sort of bet he’s got going on in his own head. In fact, so long as fate, or whatever it is, squishes them together, he plans on following through. He just wants to be right.

That’s really why he’s staying. To prove a point.

“Well then your wish has completely come true.” The ice in her voice is piercing and he can’t help but wonder what the bloke did to her.

Probably cheated or something like that. And for a fleeting moment he questions how anyone could cheat on her. She is an incredibly gorgeous girl; he’ll give her that, so it’d be ridiculous to bail on her. He’d expect someone to stay, if for nothing other than her phenomenal body, of course.

The problem then is what he’s supposed to say now. He’s not really one for comforting the ladies—satisfying them, that’s totally up his alley, but this is something entirely different and he just knows it. She also doesn’t seem much of the type for pity so he scours his brain for a way out, but with a way to keep the conversation going because he just can’t go. Not yet.

He goes for daring because the worst thing that could happen is that she gets offended and throws her drink in his face and, while that isn’t exactly desirable, he isn’t afraid to try her a little bit. “Seems you granted his as well.”

She leans back, eyes wild and mouth curling inward into a fine line. She stays silent for a moment, presumably to gather all her rage in that pretty little head of hers. He thinks for a second that she might explode. How adorable. “Fuck you,” she finally barks at him.

“If you’d like,” he smirks.

She stands up then, body rigid and—are those tears?

_Oh wonderful going Robin, you great sodding tosspot._

He hadn’t really expected that reaction because she just seems like the type of girl who has thick skin and can take a few hits; probably needs them too because everyone else walks on eggshells around her. But apparently, Robin has crossed a line.

“I’m leaving,” she mutters softly.

“Wait,” he instinctively grabs her hand and rather than ripping it away, her eyes grow big again for a split second before glancing down at their hands. He’s got a knack for needing to grab her, and who knows what that’s all about, but he feels the need to pull her back every time she goes to walk away.

“I’m sorry,” he finishes.

She seems unaffected and squirms her arm a little to get it out of his grip.

“Look I’m about as big an idiot as that boyfriend of yours but I won’t let you walk away.” He’s looking at her intently and he feels a lump rise in his throat. He has no idea why that came out of his mouth and he instantly tries to come up with ways to take it back. “Because… I bought these drinks and we aren’t going to waste them.”

“I don’t want to drink with you,” she grimaces.

“Well if you’d like princess, we can go set you down at the other end of the bar, and I’ll keep sending shots your way.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Stop acting like it and I will,” he retorts quickly.

“I do not act like a princess,” she pouts again and it’s almost laughable because she’s acting exactly like a child and he means to tell her so but the look in her eyes is defeated so he just can’t.

Oh to hell with it.

He smacks her barstool. “Then sit down and prove it. You’re gonna tell me this bloody story and for every bit that you tell, you’ll take a drink until you are too drunk to do anything but sit down.”

“So what, you can take advantage of me like you do every other woman?” Her bite is back which is a relief.

And it has Robin smiling easily. “I’ll behave myself. Besides, you’ll be throwing yourself at me by the time this is all over.” He winks at her and she scoffs.

“You are far too confident and full of yourself.”

“So are you.”

She scowls down at him then at her barstool. “And what does me getting super drunk prove?”

“You don’t like me?” he offers.

“Obviously,” she tilts her face up.

“Then sitting down with someone you don’t like and getting vulnerable, seems pretty valiant to me.” He tilts up an eyebrow.

“I’m not gonna be vulnerable. I am not vulnerable.”

“Everyone is vulnerable.”

“Not me.”

He chuckles, “Okay, princess.”

“Stop calling me that,” she reiterates angrily.

He doesn’t say anything but lifts both eyebrows so that she understands that he sticks by what he said earlier. She just frowns, then plops back into her chair.

“I’m not a princess,” she grumbles. “And you will be the last person I’d ever let see me be vulnerable.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Let’s drink,” she snaps.

[:]

It doesn’t take many drinks. She’s a lightweight, he can tell. Her words are starting to slur together, just slightly, but not enough, so that she’s still fairly coherent. He finds it funny. He expected her to cave but it turned out to be much easier for him to be right than he thought. Truthfully, he can’t help but feel a bit of a swell of pride.

It will be over tonight. His whole little mystery game will be all solved. He just has to know a bunch of details (ones that will probably turn him off from her), bed her and then be done with her. Easy as pie. Then he can go on living his life and forget about the elusive hallway girl.

If only it was that simple.

She’s downing another shot right before she finally addresses the primary issue, “He didn’t cheat.”

He looks over at her, surprised by the revelation.

“But he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut,” she continues.

What could it be then? Did he dump her? Rotten luck but it could be worse, right? At least, he didn’t cheat; that had to have been a relief. But according to the girl’s expressions, it seems like whatever he did was far worse. But what could be worse than cheating on someone?

Although, they did seem to be in a rather different situation, since last he saw of her, she was still peeling herself away from his room in the mornings. So if they aren’t exactly a couple, cheating would be irrelevant and that eliminates any other couple problem. Unless she wanted to become a couple and he turned her down, which frankly wouldn’t surprise him. Women are all so needy. That’s why he always goes for the sleazy girls because those you can sleep with and have no attachments afterwards.

But girls like the one he’s sitting with now, they’re high maintenance and think that they know everything. Not to mention, they want everything their way and if that doesn’t happen, then at best, the girl dumps him and at worst, she stays with him and spends the rest of her days bitching about that one thing that pissed her off ages ago.

This is exactly why Robin doesn’t do long term relationships. They turn into some bonafide disaster because the man wants more sex and the woman wants more of the relationship so they basically get married to satisfy each other, wind up with kids and then hate each other for being stuck that way. Eventually, they may get a divorce but that won’t stop them from tearing each other to absolute shreds beforehand.

His mum and dad were a prime example. Both came from family money so they were inherently wealthy, and so it goes in his family history, that they must keep up the pedigree. Two rich, good looking folks marry and produce children only to make those children suffer through all the late night screaming and door slamming. And, of course, it hadn’t helped Robin that he was an only child so whenever his parents wanted to use him as bait well, he had to take the brunt of it.

One time (and perhaps, the only time), Robin’s family went out for a day at the pool, he had decided that he wanted to swim like all the other kids in his neighborhood, so he jumped right into the deep end sans any kind of floatation device or ability to swim. Sad thing was, his parents hadn’t even bothered to notice. They were too busy fighting about something stupid that had happened earlier that day. Had Marian’s family not been there that day, Robin probably would’ve drowned.

The man had jumped in after him, clothes and all, to fetch him out the water. And even as they emerged from the water together, his parents still hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t until Marian’s father was carrying him out of the pool, with Robin nearly retching in an attempt to clear his lungs of the water, that they’d been ripped away from their argument to notice their son almost dying.

Robin’s mother was the first to react, screaming and then running over to fuss all over him, calling him her "poor baby" and asking if he was okay.  Of course, he was very young at the time and didn’t have much of a backbone to tell his mum to shove off and that perhaps if they paid him more attention, this wouldn’t have happened.

Robin’s father, on the other hand, was being diplomatic, professionally rising from his chair, not even bothering with Robin’s wellbeing, and shaking Marian’s father’s hand and thanking him for saving “his boy.”

And while his father (and mother) did look entirely concerned, it was all for show because the second after Marian’s family left, they were back at each other’s throats and ignoring Robin. His father never even asked him one time if he was okay. To be fair, for awhile, the subject of their argument was Robin, although it was merely to accuse the other of being a poor parent, when in actuality they both were.

That’s how Robin’s life went and that’s how any relationship he would attempt at, would go. So he knows it’s best to forgo the whole stupid thing and just have sex.

That’s why he left Marian and that’s why he hasn’t looked back since.

“And what does that mean?” he asks as she guzzles yet another shot.

He thinks to tell her to slow down but maybe she needs to loosen up some. Besides, she’s in his charge and he’s going to be sure to watch after her.

“It means that he has a great capacity to do exactly what I don’t want him to do.”

Robin chuckles, “Yes, he must have forgotten the cardinal rule: Never do something Princess wouldn’t want.”

She rolls her eyes, clearly not amused. “Oh please, your reaction would’ve been far worse.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes because you have the emotional capacity of an ant,” she sneers.

“I heard that ants can be very emotional creatures. How dare you?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh good come back.”

She turns to face him totally now, her knees knocking against his as she swirled around. She looks intently at him. “I love you, you know that.”

He nearly spits out his drink, but instead, swallows hard. It goes down the wrong tube and he can feel as the tequila burns its way through his windpipe and his nose. He’s certain he’ll never be able to breathe properly after that. He coughs wildly, trying his best to clear out his respiratory passages. “What?!”

She’s laughing then and it’s something truly exquisite. He nearly forgets that he was choking to death just a few moments ago. “See, I told you.”

“What?”

“You have no emotional range. You’re essentially emotionally damaged. A stranger said that to you and you practically lose all sense of logic.”

“Well, that isn’t exactly a phrase you take lightly, m’lady. I mean, I’m flattered but you are merely a stranger.”

“Oh please, as if I’d ever mean that line for you.”

He knows she’s meant that her lover had told her this but he can’t help but play games.

“It’s okay, your secret is safe with me, love,” he winks.

“If I ever took an interest in you, you’d be shouting it from the roof tops.”

“Well you just haven’t given me a chance to climb to the top of The Rabbit Hole yet.”

“Please do, and don’t return.” She gives a fake smile.

He rises then, reaching for her hand and lightly brushing his lips across her knuckles. He hears her breath hitch for a second and he relishes in the satisfaction it gives him. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

“Oh I’ve been upgraded?”

“Well yes because that sounds like the demand of a queen, probably an evil one, of course, but a queen nonetheless.” And then he starts his journey away from her.

“Where are you going?”

“To fulfill your wishes.”

“Oh stop being overdramatic and come back over here,” she calls after him.

He tries to fight the smile itching to dance across his face and he doesn’t turn around, instead he marches onward to the hallway in the back. He really just needs to use the loo but he used it as an opportunity to screw with her.

Once he reaches the hallway, he turns to see if she has followed, which she hasn’t. He’s briefly disappointed but he peeks his way back into the main area to see her sulking back to her barstool. At least, she moved. He considers abandoning his need to relieve his bladder and returning to her but he’s really got to piss so he turns back to his original direction.

Bladder satiated, he goes back to his—well, not his—hallway girl. Except, he finds that his seat has been taken by another, a man with a near buzz cut and abnormally large ears. Well, that was fast.

“Erm, excuse me,” he speaks tentatively when he’s approached them, “that’s my seat.”

The man turns to look at him. Ah, an abnormally large nose to match his enormous ears. “Sorry, mate ya missed ya chance.”

His accent had to have been northern somewhere in the UK (not often that he’ll run into someone like that here) but Robin had no clue where, nor did he really care to try and figure it out. He’s just really annoyed at this point. Perhaps, it’s futile. He debates on whether to tell the man to bugger off or if he, himself, should just bugger off. Obviously, she isn’t too concerned with who’s in her company and Robin honestly shouldn’t be sweating it too much.

She’s just some girl.

“Right then, well you two have a lovely evening. I have a princess’ wishes to fulfill,” he smiles disheartened.

The man next to Regina just furrows his brow, unsure of what Robin means, while Regina frowns.

Bingo. That was the expression Robin was hoping for. She’s such a sucker, just like all the other girls he’d bedded from the club. And he imagines beginning to laugh and telling her so, but the cockiness must have already reached his face because she starts to squint her eyes at him like she’s caught onto something.

“Well, if you must go,” she says airily, face pointing upward.

He knows she is aware of his antics this time. But two can easily play at that game. “Yes, so thank you for the drinks. I know how much you wanted me to stay the whole evening but I just don’t think I can do this because of the—“ he gestures around his mouth to indicate a problem with hers, “—thing, you know?”

Her jaw drops open and the other bloke is just looking between them.

“What thing?” he asks.

“Oh just the festering mouth sores and what have you,” Robin interjects nonchalantly.

Regina’s mouth gapes open further.

“Oh well, this was nice but I have to go…” the guy says slowly and then stands, immediately bolting afterward.

Before she can say anything, Robin jumps in, “Give me your phone.”

“What? No.”

“Yes hurry,” but he needn’t say anything else because it’s on the bar top so he snatches it up.

“Hey!” she yells.

Passcode.

“Damn it. Punch it in now. Trust me,” he hisses.

She mulls it over, looking at him warily.

“If you don’t hurry, I can’t do it,” he warns.

“What?”

“I’ll tell you in a second. Punch the damn code in.”

She finally does it and Robin hollers out to the bloke walking away, “HEY YOU!”

The guy turns around just in enough time for Robin to open the camera and take a picture. Then, he turns back to face Regina and plops back into his newly vacated seat. Regina is still looking at him confusedly but before he tells her what he is up to, he turns his back to her, as well as, turns the camera around on them. “Say cheese.”

She tries to cry out a no but he’s already taken the picture and turns back to face her with an impish grin. “You’re quite… photogenic.”

“Shut up.” She snatches the phone away to look at the picture “I’m deleting this.”

“Wait don’t,” he pleads.

“No, I don’t want it on my phone.”

He sighs, “Then will you at least send it to me.”

“No because you’ll blackmail me with it or something,” she answers shortly and returns her gaze back to the screen to delete it.

“I won’t,” he says hurriedly. “I promise. ‘S too good a picture to go to waste. Please.”

She huffs out dejectedly. “Fine.” She hands the phone back over to him. “Just send it to yourself.”

He takes her phone and navigates it, clicking the share button, then the message icon. It pops up in a new iMessage and he types his number at the top. He wonders if she’ll save it or delete it. Fleetingly, he hopes for the former. But when the second is up, he clicks send and watches as it zips off to cyber space.

“I did it so that should your mouthful of festering sores get around to anyone else, you have proof he was here with you and you can easily tell others the same about him.” He references back to the preliminary photo.

“Wow you’re so clever,” she scoffs. “Now give me my phone back.”

He holds out the phone to her but doesn’t quite release his grip. Her hand settles atop his and his hand warms a little despite the chill of her touch. He levels his gaze with hers and it’s almost as if they’re children fighting over a toy but it’s so much more than that. He doesn’t relent for several seconds and neither does she, but they hold their eye contact.

She has really beautiful eyes. Has he ever noticed her eyes?

Their link is broken by a ringing sound, and the both jolt back. Thankfully, Robin is smart enough to clutch onto the phone so that it doesn’t fall to the ground and probably shatter. He hands it to her quickly but not before glancing to see who the caller is.

Graham.

She pokes out her bottom lip and he watches as she mulls over whether or not to answer and it appears that she goes against answering it, because she sets the phone down face first on the bar top.

“You that pissed with him?” he inquires.

“It’s not that I’m mad, it’s just I don’t really want to talk to him right now.”

“Mhm,” the doubt in his answer bleeds through.

“I don’t.”

“Why? Afraid, he’ll say he loves you again?” he jests.

“No, it’s not even the ‘love’ thing that I’m upset about.”

“Oh?”

“It’s that he got pissed off and acted like a child,” she pouts.

“Oh,” he suppresses his laughter because she isn’t doing much better, honestly. “So you’re mad because he’s mad because you didn’t say I love you back?”

“Yes. He called me a bitch all because I wasn’t ready to make a really huge jump in our relationship—no, not relationship because we aren’t a couple. So is it so wrong to not want to say it back?” Her eyes meet with his again and she’s desperate. He knows that she wants to be told that she’s done the right thing.

And as much as Robin likes to dig under her skin, this time he can’t disagree, and he tells her so, explaining that he sees no fault in wanting a relationship solely based on sex and nothing more; it’s safer for all parties.

“Thank you!” she exclaims. “Why does no one else get that?”

He shrugs.

“Wait.” She straightens up. “We don’t like each other. And I’m not going to sit around and agree with you or find common ground.”

He smirks and pauses, allowing for other sounds enter in. That new _Shut Up and Dance_ song is playing and inspiration strikes. He hops down from his stool and extends his hand. “Good. No more talking. Dance with me.”

She looks at him as if he’s lost his mind. “Oh like hell you’ll see me out there dancing, least of all, with you.” Her last few syllables drip with contempt.

“Oh c’mon princess. You want to forget about your lover and you don’t want to converse with me so get your arse out to that dance floor right now and dance with me.

“No!” she answers adamantly.

“Hey, you wanna know why I call you princess? This is one of those times. So,” he extends his hand again. “Dance. With. Me.”

She deliberates, casting her eyes between the dance floor and his open palm. She finally narrows her eyes and settles her gaze on his face. “So if I dance with you, then you’ll stop calling me princess?”

He nods genuinely.

She looks at him dubiously but slips her hand in his palm anyway. “Fine. But one dance.”

The crowd has just started to pile into the place and several are already headed to the dance floor. The next song was about to come on, so he tugs her hand and got to the floor just in time for the start of _Talking Body_. It isn’t exactly the prime song he wanted to start with, he notices, as the tune starts but he begins to move, regardless.

He looks to Regina who’s shaking her head. “I’m not doing that!” she yells over the music.

“Oh yes you are!” he hollers back and reaches for her hips, which she protests at first but then shuts up when he raises his eyebrows. He begins to rock her hips to the beat of the song and once she starts to go on her own, he coasts his hands up to her arms and lifts them, moving them also to the beat. Eventually, he releases those too to let her do it herself.

She apprehensively moves her body to the beat and she yells again over the music, “I look stupid!”

“So?”

“So, I don’t want to look stupid in public.”

“No one is looking at you!” he laughs.

“You are.”

He breaks his dancing for a moment and raises his brow again. “And suddenly you care about my opinion of you?”

She stops for a moment too. “No,” she answers defensively.

“Okay then,” he grins, “then dance.”

It takes her a bit but she begins to loosen up as each song passes. She’s rather fascinating and enjoyable when she loosens the reigns a bit. And of course, she’s hot as hell, especially when she shakes her arse, which Robin totally wasn’t looking at. Oh, who is he kidding? He’d lost all will power not to look when a remix of _Baby Got Back_ came into the playlist. He steadily told himself not to look while it was playing but somewhere around, “'Cause you notice that butt was stuffed deep in the jeans she's wearing,” he’d given way to temptation.

It was totally worth the look and had he not been at least somewhat of a gentleman, he would’ve probably gone for it. The hips were daring enough though.

The song is changing again and Regina perks up.

“I love this song!” She hollers out and begins to move to the beat, singing along to the music of _The Night is Still Young._

Robin chuckles and begins to move with her.

She’s let her hair loose and is shaking it everywhere, nearly hitting Robin in the face. He finds that he doesn’t mind, though. She looks so carefree and he enjoys looking at her like this.

His hands have found her hips again and his touch sticks with her sway. They’ve moved even closer to each other. She smells of lavender and sweat and it nearly drives him mad.

The song hits its break down right before the chorus which shifts into a slower beat and without thinking he grips her hips tighter and turns her, so her backside slams into his front. Clearly, she’s going with instinct, too, because she instantly starts grinding onto him.

It’s animalistic how he pulls her even tighter to him and she grinds harder as he does so. His face buries in her hair on the side of her face and he begins to meet her for the grinds.

He’s so turned on but Regina seems unaffected since she still dances, speeding up her grinds as the song does and slowing them back down when the chorus breaks.

If this was any other girl, he’d have turned her about again and kissed her roughly and passionately, but she isn’t just some girl. No, he knew somewhere during their little dance party, that she isn’t. He still doesn’t fancy her or anything, but he knows she’s just not the type of girl he can do this to.

So, he sticks with dancing and their sweaty bodies sticking together for that.

As the song fades out into:

_How dare we sit quietly_

_And watch the world pass us by_

Robin slows them down and turns Regina back around. She has a huge smile plastered across her face. He’s looking carefully at her because he can’t get over how great she looks when she lets it go and genuinely has fun.

“What?” she asks.

The left corner of his mouth lifts. “Nothing. You want another drink?”

She nods excessively and he grabs her hand, leading her back to the bar.

[:]

They sort of overdid the latter half of their drinking. Well, Regina did anyway. Robin’s feeling pretty good but he’s still coherent enough.

It’s well into the wee hours of the morning when the cab they called leads them to her apartment. He stumbles out of the cab (maybe he’s more drunk then he will admit) and scurries around to open Regina’s door.

She tumbles out into his arms, causing Robin to exert an _oof!_ and she’s cackling like a mad woman. He guides her to the front and tells the cabdriver that he’ll be back then drags her to the door.

“Which one’s yours?”

She gasps.

“What?” he asks worriedly.

“They took my keys.” Her eyes are wide as she turns to him. He has to be careful not to laugh.

He sighs, “Brilliant. Will anyone let you in?”

“Yeah, click 414.”

He does as she says and buzzes.

“Hello?” A voice comes over the intercom.

“Yeah, hey,” Robin speaks nervously, “uh, I have Regina and she left her keys at the club, so can you let us in.”

He hears a hefty sigh and then the door buzzes and he lugs Regina, who’s yelling, “Thanks Sulyyy,” in the door.

No elevator. Great.

“Can you walk?” He knows she can’t and he thinks about just leaving her there but he instead bends and lifts her, heaving her over his shoulder.

“Hey!” she cries out but that’s the extent of her protest.

“What’s your room number?”

“108. Don’t worry the door’s unlocked.”

No stairs. Good.

So he follows the signs on the bottom floor to room 108, manages to get the door open one handed while the other had found a nice place on her arse.

Her apartment is nice and swanky but he doesn’t pay attention to much detail because his only concern is putting her down.

He finds the black leather couch and lets her down gently onto it.

“You know, when I was thinking about a man taking me home, I never thought it would be you,” she laughs.

“Why, when taking women home is my profession?”

She’s still laughing but manages a, “Trueeeee.”

“Okay, well, I have to go home. I have things to do tomorrow. Are you gonna be alright?” he patronizes.

She sits up and sways, proving that to be a poor choice. “Now look who’s Cinderella.”

“Yes, well I’ll be a pumpkin any minute, so I must go. Will you be okay?”

She nods and falls back on the couch.

Robin stays for a second and watches as she probably passes out. He considers staying but that could only end poorly, so he makes his way for the door.

“Hey thief!” he hears after him.

He turns back, “Yes?”

“I still don’t like you.”

He chuckles, “Good. Feeling’s mutual. Goodnight pr- Regina.”

And with that he closes the door behind him.

[:]

Robin has no idea what time it is when he finally gets back to his own place but he knows it’s really late, or early, rather, because John is home on the couch.

“Hey man!” John calls out as Robin shuffles his way in.

“Hey,” Robin answers wearily.

“Home so soon? I thought you were, for sure, going home with that black haired chick?”

“Nah, I just took her home and left.”

John shifts to the edge of the couch seat, “Wait what?”

“Yeah, I just wasn’t feeling it tonight.”

“Damn,” John falls back again. “She was hot. I can’t believe you passed that up. You seriously got nothing out of that, man?”

That’s when Robin slips his phone out of his pocket and opens up his messages. He smiles at the most recent message in his phone, from a phone number he doesn’t know just yet. Inside is a single picture of him and Regina.

“Nope. I got something better.”


	5. Chapter Five

She’s late, she always is for these things, it never fails. She doesn’t understand the purpose of them. It’s not like they won’t see each other a few hours later in the conference room at the school. But Regina goes to the stupid brunch anyway, right before the back to school faculty meeting that everyone dreads. It’s a dumb tradition that she got roped into her first year, and she’s been doing it ever since.

It’s Kathryn’s thing and it baffles Regina to no end why she must do it, but as her friend she agreed to it, especially, after the whole Nolan/Blanchard trainwreck that occurred a few years ago, now. And so, that’s why she’s walking up to the table, watching as Kathryn rises excitedly from her seat to greet her. Tinka rises too, just as enthusiastically, and Regina can’t lie, saying it doesn’t make her feel good.  Her presence is desired, which isn’t a very often occurrence.

“Hey!” Kathryn calls out as soon as Regina is in earshot.

She greets Kathryn first, hugging her and then giving the same greeting to Tinka. She skims her eyes around the table, nodding to Belle, who is still sitting, as well as, Ariel.

Regina isn’t really all that close to either of them but they’re good friends of her good friends, and they keep good company, so she acquaints with them and such. Occasionally, she’ll go to functions with them, parties, maybe concerts, or the movies, but only with Kathryn or Tinka in tow. And they manage to have fun.

There is a third member missing from her acquaintances though.

“Where’s Rory?”

She doesn’t know why she bothers asking. Rory always manages to somehow be late to everything because she oversleeps. How she sleeps through any and everything is beyond Regina but Rory never disappoints.

It’s actually become a running joke in their group. Every year for Rory’s birthday, someone buys her an alarm clock. It goes around in a loop so that everyone else will buy her a regular gift but the designated member will purchase an alarm clock—Rory has an actual pile building in the bottom of her closet. At least, she’ll never have the concern of not having an alarm clock, not that they’re really all that useful anymore since smart phones can just do it for you. But, in the case of natural disaster, where all newer technology ceases to work, Rory will never have to worry.

Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes later when Rory finally shows up. And she comes over nonchalantly, as if she hasn’t kept everyone waiting, and greets them all. Regina doesn’t understand why they just don’t tell her an earlier time and then pick a proper time for themselves.

But it doesn’t matter because they never listen to Regina, which is why they still designate a time and then have to wait on Rory.

And, of course, Regina doesn’t bother saying anything and just takes her spot at the table as one of them conducts the summer gossip. What’s also stupid is that they see each other throughout the summer and everyone (Regina excluded) manages to have piles of gossip to tell at the brunch. Why they don’t just pick up the phone and call each other instead is also something Regina just can’t understand for the life of her.

But again, Regina’s opinion on the matter is entirely irrelevant, which is exactly why she’s _still_ there, listening to them gab on and on about who’s gained weight, who’s having sex and who’s not anymore, who got hitched or is pregnant and so on. Regina had hoped that when David and Mary Margaret had begun the whole sordid affair thing, that what they’re doing now would’ve stopped—after all, it’s how they all found out about it.

Kathryn had known for some time, and, honestly, Regina had too -- the way David and Mary Margaret had batted their eyes at one another wasn’t exactly subtle. But no one knew for sure except Kathryn. David claimed it was love at first sight, that something about Mary Margaret was just all-encompassing, ‘true love’ they said. It was all a bunch of bullshit, in Regina’s opinion, to cover up their obvious need to cheat.

Why can’t people just admit that they’re cheaters and be done with it? Yes, they cheated, so they grow a pair, admit it and move on. There’s no need to save face when that happens. And no amount of reasoning is going to fix it.

Maybe Regina just doesn’t understand because she’s never been cheated on (nor does she plan to be) so she’s never had to worry about making things right. Then again, she’d never let anyone in close enough to cheat on her. That’s why her whole system works because no amount of ‘cheating’ can ruin a nonexistent couple. It’s as easy as that.

When news broke, they were sitting at a table, just like they are now, and Ariel (or was it Rory?) mentioned that she had incredible gossip—that saint Mary Margaret Blanchard was having an affair. The other girls began chattering about it but Regina knew to look straight at Kathryn, who wasn’t saying a word. It all unfolded from there.

The whole thing had just been embarrassing and Regina expected Kathryn to be strong and independent, telling David to get out, but for awhile she tried to make him stay and then played the victim when she realized that wasn’t working. And, naturally, Regina had to be in the center of it, which was annoying to say the least. She wanted no part of the stupid thing, she had thought Kathryn was being utterly ridiculous, and well, she wasn’t that big of a David Nolan fan in the first place. And had teaching jobs not been so few and far between in their location, she’s sure that she and Kathryn would’ve abandoned ship.

But thankfully, it all blew over when Kathryn reunited with her high school sweetheart, Frederick, whom she seemed to still be doing well with after a few years and, one can only hope, that remains. Although, seeing as they’re now engaged, well it wouldn’t make much sense if it doesn’t.

Regina has her own opinions on Kathryn and Frederick’s engagement. Sure, perhaps an engagement now seems reasonable, based on how long they’ve been together but Kathryn’s sudden engagement to Frederick after the Nolan’s announced their pregnancy was no accident and Regina knew that—she’s fairly certain everyone knew. Kathryn was always superb at stealing people’s thunder, especially when that thunder should have been hers.

“So guess what I heard,” Tinka chimes in.

All the others turn to look at her, awaiting her announcement and Regina feels herself already rolling her eyes hard. Why is she even here?

“Turns out the reason the Devil is leaving because she met somebody,” she informs them, leaning in close to the center of the table like she’s telling the world’s greatest secret.

“Who?” Rory immediately asks.

That’s when Tinka leans back and shrugs, “That I don’t know.”

Regina scoffs, “Oh and who gave you this information?”

“Ashley,” she answers simply. “Who else?”

Regina’s eyes roll again, “That girl is a fountain of gossip, I don’t understand what the need to hire her was. All she ever does is waste her time collecting gossip and then telling you. Nevermind that she should be doing something productive like, I don’t know, what a secretary should be doing.”

“Oh, stop being so pessimistic,” Kathryn interjects.

“Sorry that I happen to value education more than the meaningless gossip that you all feel the need to spout,” she mutters.

There’s a brief silence, one that makes Regina believe that they might be taking her words to heart, for once, thankfully. Maybe, they could finally have a lunch together where Regina doesn’t have to sit through an hour’s worth of needless details in the lives of the staff at Blanchard Orchard Elementary School. But the dream is only fleeting when Tinka speaks again.

“Wanna know what else Ashley told me?”

Everyone contributes their interest, again, except Regina, but it’s also of no consequence still because Tinka proceeds.

“I heard David hired Mary Margaret’s replacement,” she whispers.

“What?” Ariel’s voice comes in first. “Wait, I didn’t think she was leaving for good. It’s not a sub?”

“Nope,” Tinka responds matter-of-factly. “This guy is supposed to be long term.”

“Wait it’s a guy?” Kathryn jumps in.

“What you wanna bet Mary Margaret had something to do with that?” Ariel jests and has everyone laughing. Even Regina can’t help but crack a smile at that one.

“Is he cute?” Kathryn asks.

“Aren’t you engaged?” Regina follows up and then glances around the table adding, “Aren’t you all in relationships of some nature?”

“What, you want him for yourself, Regina?” Tinka asks.

“No,” Regina replies tersely. And she means it; she doesn’t care about some new arrival. The new guy probably isn’t even all that interesting. Just because he’s a guy, that doesn’t automatically make him worthy of anything special. They’re acting like children with a new toy and Regina would never stoop so low as to throwing herself at some guy just because they’re a mystery to one another. Sure, they can reinvent themselves when he shows up, but soon enough, their dirty little secrets will catch up to them.

And as for the guy, he’ll eventually be like all the rest, no longer mysterious and just another fish in the pond.

“Well, you should know that I don’t know for a fact that he’s cute, but Ashley said he’s totally gorgeous and—get this—best part,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “he’s got an accent.”

“Ooo, an accent?” Belle finally contributes.

 “You have an accent,” she insists to her Kiwi counterpart.

Of course, Regina knows that Tinka doesn’t really give a shit about his accent but she does know that her friends would eat it up.

Tinka ignores her though and nods, “Yep, he’s English.”

That’s when Regina feels all the blood drain from her face and her pulse quickens as she logically adds up the details in her mind. Kindergarten teacher and English? What are the odds that there is more than one of those in Albuquerque, New Mexico?

It can’t be, it just can’t, because there’s no way, after all their run-ins, that he could possibly also be working at the same school as her. It’s absolutely impossible. Unless he really is stalking her, which at this rate, she can’t really rule out because chances are slim and there’s no such thing as fate pushing them together. And, sure, Albuquerque isn’t the largest city in the U.S, but it’s large enough that she could easily avoid someone if necessary.

She swallows hard as she dares to ask the name of the not so mysterious kindergarten teacher.

“Shit,” Tinka says, “I forgot hold on. It’s like an animal’s name.”

“What?” Rory asks.

They all clamor together, then, pitching in random animals. Her favorite was Lion, as if someone would actually name their child that. Although, to be fair, it isn’t unreasonable to discount anything because everyone is trying to be creative with names these days, but the suggestions now are laughable and Regina is so overwhelmed by the whole scenario, she thinks to just laugh it off and leave to evade what’s to come next, but when Tinka sighs defeatedly, exclaiming that she just can’t remember, Regina feels his name slip off the tip of her tongue.

“Robin,” she mumbles softly.

Everyone freezes and all of their (suddenly very large) eyes land on Regina with their mouths slightly agape and no sound emerging from them, which could be a good or bad sign depending on the take. But she knows that this silence is deadly, waiting for just the right moment to pounce.

“How did you know that?” Kathryn starts.

And Tinka follows right after with, “Do you know him?!”

Regina can feel her headache blooming in the center of her forehead already.

“Oh my god,” Kathryn answers Regina’s silence.

This is a nightmare. Hadn’t she suffered enough with his presence? Why does he keep popping up? Twice in the apartment complex and once at that disgusting bar. Oh god, and just thinking about the possibilities of her behavior at the club nearly sends her into full on panic mode. Her memory from that night is still fuzzy and she isn’t always the most subtle drunk. She remembers him calling her princess and dancing—a whole lot of dancing, but she has no idea about the spaces in between.

She feels nauseous over the thought that he will have access to her friends so that he can tell them all about her escapades and, even if he didn’t tell them straight away, he could still blackmail her for it. Given that he’s a smug little shit, he’d probably take every opportunity to hang this over her head.

“I don’t know him,” she finally cuts off their excitement.

But Tinka isn’t so easily fooled. “You know his name…?”

“Because I met him once in Graham’s apartment complex. That doesn’t mean I know him.”

“Well is he cute?” Ariel asks.

“No,” Regina tilts her nose into the air. “He’s revolting. He reeks of distaste and he sleeps with a vast amount of women, meaning he’s totally disgusting. Although, I forgot how that’s exactly your type.”

“If he wants to bed me, then he’s totally my type,” Tinka jests and the other girls laugh.

“And what about Killian?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d understand,” she answers airily.

Regina just rolls her eyes for what feels like the millionth time. “Can we move on?”

“Wait what’s his last name?” Tinka continues.

“I don’t know.” And that’s a lie. Unfortunately, she can’t help but remember his stupid name. Locksley. Robin Locksley.

“Damn it. I wanted to look him up on Facebook.”

She has to get out or change the subject because they keep getting one step closer to finding out about her bar adventures and she’d never hear the end of it. More importantly, she has to kill this Robin guy before he can tell anyone.

It’s not that she cares if anyone knows she went out drinking, it’s just that she’s always maintained a better reputation than that. And not to mention, even though he’s all the way in Colorado, if word got to Graham that could only exacerbate their already growing dilemma. However, Regina isn’t all that sure where she and Graham stand, and she hasn’t exactly confronted the issue yet so, him being aware of her evasion might just be the tipping point; it’s best not to stoke the fire.

“Well, you will get a perfectly good look at him at the meeting, won’t you?” Regina reclines, crossing her arms and pursing her lips.

“Fair enough.”

They trickle into their own personal drama after that. Kathryn raves on and on about her unnecessary checklist for her upcoming nuptials, Ariel and Rory talk about their marital adventures with Eric and Phillip respectively, and Tinka strikes up a conversation with a rather quiet Belle about her tryst with Killian Jones.

Some things never change.

[:]

The conference room is burning up and it almost makes Regina want to return to her brunch. Of course, Nolan hadn’t thought to check on the central cooling system before shoving his entire staff in a tiny room together. But no one else seems to notice or care, as they huddle up and catch each other up on their summer.

Regina is next to Kathryn again who is babbling animatedly away with Ariel, who she just saw, so what they still have left to talk about, Regina has no idea. She tries her best to block out everyone’s conversations but she can’t help but hear a couple talking about the exciting new arrival to Blanchard Orchard.

She’s probably the only person in the world, who is just dreading the whole thing, and maybe she should feel bad about that, but she frankly doesn’t. All she’s worried about is getting to him first and making sure he keeps his gigantic gob shut.

Regina would be lying if she didn’t acknowledge the fact that her palms are sweating and her breathing is a bit quicker than usual and it only gets worse when Ashley rushes back from the front office to announce his arrival.

She doesn’t get what the hype is anyway but it’s very prevalent as Ashley comes bustling in with the announcement and the entire room begins to clamor. She supposes that not enough happens at Blanchard Orchard.

Regina rises with the rest but instead of rushing the door like the rest, she chooses a different path, waltzing over to the coffee pot to make the coffee that inevitably will need to be made—and should have been made but of course, everyone else is far too concerned with drama to do something for themselves. So she pours the grinds into the pot as she hears all the welcoming and chatter.

“Hi, welcome to Blanchard Orchard,” she heard Tinka’s slutty voice peek through the crowd ruckus.

She can hear him humbly thanking everyone, laughing nervously. Her palms sweat even more as she feels them inch closer to her. Introductions are beginning, with everyone throwing their names at him. But they keep getting closer to her and she feels the need to duck out but then his voice overpowers all the noise.

“And the welcoming committee finishes with coffee. Who’s this?”

She freezes and tightens her grip on the coffee pot. She has no idea what to do now because she’s cornered. Should she act smug and like she’s not worried at all? Or should she feign surprise and treat him like an acquaintance that she’s semi-thrilled to see? Or should she pretend not to know him? Scratch that last; Kathryn would see right through that, and he would too, honestly.

She has no choice.

So, she finally takes in a deep breath and turns to face him.

His face is annoyingly predictable when he discovers her identity. It starts with a smile, which shifts into a surprised look and finally lands on a smirk. She wishes to slap it right off of him and she almost does, but instead she muses and feigns a smile.

Silence has fallen on the room, making the whole situation that much more awkward, but she stays steady and keeps her composure. That was something else mother instructed her on, always keeping a good face and staring down the enemy, never letting them think that you’re weak for a second.

She wants to speak first, so that she can control the situation, but she finds her words tangled too tightly with her tongue and she finds herself speechless in front of the entire staff of Blanchard Orchard Elementary School. She writhes uncomfortably in her spot, unable to find something clever and witty to say that doesn’t give away that they know each other well. And is this suddenly some effect he has, causing her to lose her words to the depths of her subconscious? Surely not, because there’s not a single appealing quality that would distract her from rationale. Well, maybe except his eyes, which are much more captivating in broad daylight when the lights hit them, than in the dark and danky setting of The Rabbit Hole.

Perhaps that’s what he lures his women in with—not perhaps, she knows that’s it—his eyes and his stupid dimples, which only accentuate the charming draw of his eyes, that’s how he wins them all over. She’s certain with his expression he’s wearing at the moment, he’s got the entire rest of the room eating out of the palm of his hand.

But not her.

Not even his (beautiful) blue eyes can win her over.

Finally, she finds her tongue again, wit carried along with it, “What terrorizing the women around me wasn’t enough? You had to go for the children, too?”

He chuckles softly then and all the while, she’s cursing herself because she knows that wasn’t exactly something that would make them think that she doesn’t know him. However, she is hoping that the disdain in her voice is strong enough to let them believe that she, at least, isn’t fraternizing with him or anything like that.

“Well, who would’ve thought that you would have a soft spot for children?” He muses. “You work here?”

“No, I just really love popping up in our local elementary schools for a visit,” she shoots back.

Of course, the iciness doesn’t faze him and he only laughs. “Ah, yes, a superintendent is quite suitable for you. The whole controlling leader type, I can see it.”

Before she can return any kind of insult, the conference room door is opening once more. She’s sure that when David takes in what’s going on, he’s at least mildly disconcerted over the whole thing, and who wouldn’t be when it looks like the entire staff is facing Regina down. But his hesitation is brief and then he’s waltzing over to the head of the table, everyone else follows suit except Regina and Robin, who are staring each other down against the counter.

“Miss Mills?” comes David’s voice and she looks over to him, his eyebrows raised in amusement mixed with confusion.

She moves then, behind Robin , and scurries over her seat next to Kathryn, mumbling a yes.

And then the pattern of the meeting picks up and takes off. Each grade head details a vague plan for the school year and discusses the themes. When it gets around to Regina, she does as she always has but she can’t stop herself from looking at Robin, who’s staring at her admirably and making her all too uncomfortable. Thankfully, she speaks quickly enough to get it all out, and then the report moves onto third grade but Robin’s eyes don’t leave hers, and instead, scan her up and down. He has a habit of that, she notices, and she wonders what he’s trying to see. She hasn’t changed from the last few times that he’s scrutinized her but every time he looks, it seems like he’s seeing something new. What is it that he’s able to find each time?

She glances down to her notes because if she keeps up her staring contest, she’s afraid someone will be curious, namely Kathryn, and Regina doesn’t want to give any reason to have this Robin guy be any more pertinent to her life than he already is, which is far too much in her opinion. But she can’t resist peeking up through her lashes to see if he’s still looking. For the first few times, he is but after the fourth time or so, he’s turned his attention elsewhere. She balks at the twinge in her stomach at the loss of his attention.

_Stop being so ridiculous, Regina._

Regardless, she is being absurd with the whole thing. If she’d just stop fretting over this idiot, then her problems would likely evaporate. She needs to simply threaten him once, to instill fear, always an effective tool, and then wash her hands clean. That’s just how it’s done.

Her chance comes sooner than expected because as soon as fifth grade is done, Nolan offers a break and then they’d reconvene for the partner workshops and general last minute details.

She’s pretty sure she hears Kathryn call out to her but her eyes are set elsewhere, locked on her prey. He’s talking to one of the other kindergarten teachers, paying no mind to her stalking over. She finds herself hesitating for a moment when he erupts into laughter. Perhaps she should just let him be, let him find his own way. Conceit had seeped in so deeply that Regina hadn’t considered that Robin Locksley may not be of any danger to her. He may keep his mouth shut and he may not even care, at all, about Regina.

She sighs and goes to return to her place with Kathryn. She just needs to leave well enough alone and accept that they are going to work together. There is no need to insert herself in his business any further.

But Regina doesn’t get too far before she hears a voice behind her, “Hey, Regina!”

Halting in her spot, she listens as his heavy footsteps come up behind her, one, two, three, four, five. A smile creeps upon her lips and while she should be affronted by that, she ignores it and turns to look at him, making sure to wipe off that very smile as to not give away anything.

“What?” she says a bit more shortly than she intends.

He smirks, “So small world, huh?”

“Claustrophobic.”

He guffaws and her heart lifts with the crescendo of it. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a teacher?”

“Because I was afraid you’d find a way to show up at my school. Seems as if I failed, doesn’t it?”

“Seems so. I’m none too offset by it though.” He nods his head sideways.

“Well, I guess that makes one of us.” She tries hard to look annoyed, but presently, it takes all she has not to smile at all.

He scoffs and places his hand over his chest. “I am deeply hurt. After all we’ve been through… after all my back has been through.”

“Excuse me?”

He shrugs. “Someone had to drag your sodding arse back to your apartment.”

“Oh, such a gentleman,” she mocks.

“Just call me your knight in shining armour, milady.” He beams and pokes his chest out as she rolls her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today, but this time it’s in pure amusement.

“I won’t call you anything but a thief, which is what you are.” She pauses and then adds, “And a… man whore but that’s about it.”

He nods in a small movement, taking in a sharp breath. “Yes, I suppose that’s fair. But what can a man do when women like you are constantly throwing yourselves at me?”

The gasp that comes from her is accidental but nevertheless warranted. “As if I’d ever throw myself at you.”

He does the cutest thing with his face then, twisting his mouth over to the side, nearly meeting his dimple and his eyes, which contain so much laughter within them, tilt upwards as if he’s looking to the ceiling. Regina can’t stop the corners of her lips from tilting up, though she continues (and fails) to fight it. She should be absolutely annoyed with him at this point but something’s changed.

She needs to be serious now and take her chance to make sure that they are squared away as far as their relation to one another and their exchanges. “Look,” she starts, “regardless of what happened, I trust that you’re, at least, intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut and understand that we aren’t friends. We can be coworkers but that’s it, okay?”

“Fine, but I want one thing in return,” he counters.

“This isn’t a negotiation and besides, I don’t negotiate with criminals.”

“Oh so now I’m a criminal because I stole a ten dollar Starbucks gift card?” There is laughter hidden in his voice. It’s remarkable that he knows just how to dig under her skin.

“Criminals steal, so yes, by the rules of logic you are.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“Better that than an alcoholic,” he retorts.

She’s affronted this time, honestly, only because she doubts now if he really can keep the secret. Perhaps, he is just too thick to understand the concept of silence and solidarity.

She should’ve gone with the threats.

“I’m not an alcoholic and can you shut up?!” she hisses in return.

He smirks again and Regina decides working with him will actually be impossible because she can’t look at that all day without nearly killing him. She knows he’s not going to budge on this and that, ultimately, she will have to suck it up and yield to his wish, but she takes her sweet time, glaring at him to see if he’ll dare to back down. He doesn’t, though, so she sighs furiously. “What?” she capitulates.

His smile grows wider and if looks could kill, she’d murder anything within a ten foot radius. “I want you to be my partner today.”

Her laugh is automatic, flying out of her long before she can bottle it up. “You want me to be your partner?”

Anything short of fate couldn’t have intervened next because, of course, none other than David Nolan managed to be coming from behind her to catch her last question. “That’s great!” he exclaims.

“Oh, Mr. Nolan, I—” she stammers out.

He smiles and places a hand on her shoulder, “I’m so glad to see you’re taking an initiative like this. It looks great for, you know…”

He’s referring to the opening assistant principal job at Blanchard Orchard. Ella Feinberg, not- so-beloved vice principal, and often deemed ‘the Devil,’ is finally leaving, apparently because she met someone but Regina has no clue on the validity of that. But it would make sense after her whole nightmare with her fraudulent husband. She does know, however, that this time Ella is certainly leaving.

Regina has always had her eyes set that way. She loved education but she knew she was destined to do something else. Although, Regina is sure that complex has something to do with the way she was raised. In fact, if she isn’t mistaken, she swears that she can hear mother saying, “Regina, dear, you are destined for great things. Rise above being a measly school teacher. You could do so much better. You have the potential for greatness, never forget that.” At that time, Regina brushed her off and ignored it but then she did what she always does and takes her mother’s words straight to heart, letting them influence every decision she makes.

Naturally, then, she went back to get a master’s in administration, and one day, she plans on using it. It’s not like she really does think so lowly on teachers, she is one for god’s sake, but there’s nothing wrong with aspiring past that, right? Being a teacher is great, and a really tough ass job at that, but she just has something else to do.

Now, her chance has come and Mr. Nolan knows that she’s got her eye on it, which presently also leaves her in a predicament. Having to choose between Mr. Nolan seeing that she is anything but willing to work with this guy or actually just sucking it up and working with him, neither will fare well with her, she knows. But she decides the former is the worst of the two so she resigns.

“Of course, Mr. Nolan, I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do than to help Mr. Locksley out.” She shines her best faux smile as Mr. Nolan nods his approval.

“Well done, Regina.”

She responds with a business like nod as he walks away and subsequently returns her eyes to her newest problem.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” he grins mischievously.

Instinct kicks in and she grabs hard onto his arm, glaring hard at him. “Listen to me. We’re going to do things my way whether you like it or not.”

“Getting a little handsy there, Your Majesty?” he says as he looks down at her arm.

She hadn’t consciously registered that she was touching him until his comment but he needn’t say more because she rips her hand away and scoffs. “Must you be so annoying?”

“M’ mum told me that’s one of my more outstanding qualities,” he teases.

“Ostentatious, maybe but not outstanding in a good way.”

“You saying she lied?”

“No,” she answers shortly, “I’m only saying you let your ego do the listening.”’

He feigns offense once more, “You wound me.”

“Good.”

He goes to reply but then David is calling them back to order and Regina nearly jumps at the chance to stalk away.

The meeting readjusts and Mr. Nolan begins delving out workshops and other miscellaneous ‘need-to-do’s before the first day.

“Okay, onto our mural. Our art teacher isn’t here today, so are there any hidden artists in here that would like to give a crack at it?” he asks.

Regina watches as Robin perks up, head rising and eyes alight. “I can.” He nonchalantly raises his hand.

“Great. Don’t worry, you won’t have to do any drawing, really, we’ll leave that to her, but if you’ve got imagination and can come up with an idea, that would be great.”

“Sir, I work with kindergarteners, all I have is imagination,” Robin quips and has the whole room, David included, chuckling.

“Wonderful, then you and Ms. Mills can proceed with that.” He gestures to the conference room door and holds up the packet with the information about the mural, which Regina is sure to snatch up before Robin can and then they file out.

[:]

Regina can’t believe she got sucked into this stupid thing and had she not attempted amnesty with her ‘partner,’ she might have chosen to strangle him by now. She’s actually so enthralled with her irritation that she’s failed to pay mind to the fact that Robin is leading them to wherever they are going to work. Great, all he needs to do is lead them somewhere secluded so that it’ll be all the more tempting.

But she’s following him anyway.

He takes them to the art room and she’s rather impressed that he didn’t get lost on the way there.

When they reach the door, he holds it open for her and points inside. “See, I am a gentleman.”

“Shut up and let’s get this over with.”

Once they’re situated, he’s the first to speak once they’ve settled, “So’ve you any ideas?”

“No.”

“Wow, you’re such a help.”

“I also didn’t ask to do this.” Her arms cross over her chest.

His voice shifts into one that sounds like what a parent uses to patronize their child when they’re acting childish. “Well sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. Besides, why do you dislike me so much?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Because you are an affront to womankind and therefore, as a woman, I should be offended by you.”

“Not all women seem to be affronted by me.”

“And therein lies the problem.”

“Hm,” he muses, “an affront to womankind—that is not a name I’ve gotten before.”

“Well now you have.”

“I’ll add it right beneath ‘Oh god, oh god,’” he moans the last bit and then smiles at her. “That one is my favorite.”

“Scum of the earth shouldn’t compare themselves to gods.”

“Scum of the earth, now that one I have heard,” he chuckles to himself.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, this girl—” he pauses, “oh, I’ve forgotten her name—probably why she called me that in the first place.”

“Have you ever considered that that might be a problem?” she inquires.

“Well, of course, I know it’s a problem.”

“Then why do you do it?” she presses.

“Why do you?”

She stops, takes a breath, and then proceeds. “We’ve been down that road before.”

“Have you called your little boyfriend back by the way?” he shifts the gravity of the conversation.

“That is none of your business.”

“You surely made it my business at the bar.”

“No, no,” she negates. “ _You_ approached _me_ at the bar. And even when you left, you scared off my present company and then reinserted yourself back into my life.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes. A stretch of silence goes on and then he continues. “You should call him, you know. Tell him how you feel, no matter what, even if that means ending it. Might as well be honest.”

“You’re giving me relationship advice?”

“Mhm.”

“And what makes you qualified to do so?” she interrogates.

“The fact that I may be the only person who knows what you’re going through.”

She grimaces because, unfortunately, he’s right. She hasn’t told anyone besides him about what happened between her and Graham and she doesn’t really plan on it. So she mulls it over, flipping between taking his advice and admitting he’s right or defending her own pride. But she chooses not to tell Robin what she’s going to do—it’s none of his business anyway.

“Okay, let’s get to this.” She nods to the packet.

“So stubborn,” he mutters, laughing to himself, and she doesn’t answer. He rights himself, then, and comes over to stand next to her and look at the packet.

His proximity doesn’t go unnoticed, especially when his shoulder settles on hers, but instead of telling him to move, she lets him stay, pressing slightly back into him.

“So, any ideas Mr. Creative?”

“Yeah, okay, ready?” He doesn’t wait for her verification. “An orchard.”

A thunderous laugh erupts from her chest and she looks over beside her. “An orchard? Out of all that imagination you were boasting about, what you came up with was an orchard for Blanchard _Orchard_ Elementary School? Wow, such an original take, wherever did you get the idea?”

“Hear me out,” he cries.

“Fine.”

“Okay so imagine a really big apple orchard. And off to the right side, in the background, there is a group of children and up above them is an adult—a teacher, who is handing them apples. And it’s all metaphorical, you see, because the apple is representative of education and the children are excited to receive their learning.”

“Oh, is that the artist in you talking?” she teases.

“You bet it is… now, what’s to go into the forefront?”

“A horse,” she says automatically.

And she wishes she could take it back, especially when his next question comes, “You like horses?”

She thinks to lie to avoid the rest of the conversation she knows will follow, but she can’t resist the way her secrets slip off her tongue in his presence. “I was a champion rider, as a matter of fact.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, my dad,” she pauses briefly then recovers, “my dad, he owned a ranch and taught me when I was young.”

She’s certain he can tell that it’s a sore subject for her by her tone, because he doesn’t pry. Instead, he dodges, taking a new route. “So are you gonna teach me how to ride?”

She turns to face him with raised eyebrows.

“Horses, I mean,” he corrects. Is that a red tint to his cheeks?

She smirks and saunters closer to him. ”I’ll teach you to ride anytime.”

He steps even closer, closing the gap, “Yeah, I think you’d like that.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Okay so are we done here?”

“Did you have a favorite horse?”

“Rocinante, my very own horse.”

“Can you describe him? Close your eyes.”

“Yeah right. I don’t trust you so my eyes will stay open, thank you very much.” She turns back around to face the table.

“Oh will you stop being so bloody stubborn,” he sighs and then he shifts behind her, pressing his whole body into her backside. He’s warm and she can’t help but relish in it momentarily, letting the heat encompass her. Despite the fact that it’s six hundred degrees outside (and inside right now), it’s still comforting and, admittedly, she rather likes it, although, she’d never, ever readilu admit that. His arms are snaking around front and she watches as his hands cover her eyes. She protests, but to no avail, because he whispers in her ear for her to relax and to trust him, just this once. It's annoying just how easy that proves to be and she does relax; her shoulders stop tensing up and she lets her eyelids flutter shut.

He must notice because she feels a void return to her back as he steps away from her. “Now, describe him to me.”

And she tells Robin about Rocinante’s milk chocolate color, his short brown mane and the white strip that trails down the center of his face, and lastly his white hooves. When she finishes, he tells her to keep her eyes closed and she lets out an exasperated sigh but he promises that he just needs a few more seconds.

More than a few more seconds pass before she’s instructed to open her eyes, and when she does, she glances down in front of her to see a pretty rough sketch of a horse, but one that nevertheless reminds her of Rocinante. She smiles warmly at it and she feels a strong urge to hug Robin for it, she doesn’t though because that would be ridiculous, because they are not friends.

So she straightens herself up and gives a terse thank you and then, “C’mon, we should get back.”

[:]

Mr. Nolan loved the idea, ate it straight out of Robin’s palm, whom Regina let have the honors of telling them the idea. She has no idea why she did it, but she had, and it was a great feeling watching him grin like an idiot as everyone commended him for it. If she’s honest, it is a really great idea and, truthfully, she thinks that it’ll be a great display for Blanchard Orchard. She never has to tell him that, but it is true.

David later congratulated Regina on a job well done. Of course, she humbly admitted that it was all Robin (another thing she’d never tell him), but David still praised her for her excellence of the day and that the position was opening even wider for her. She was so ecstatic and nearly did hug Robin for that one but refrained again, knowing that there are boundaries --there have to be with him.

But when she finally gets home, she decides that she has to share her news with someone.

She picks up the phone and on the third ring, she hears panting on the other end.

“Hello?” she starts.

“Regina?”

“Graham? Hey,” she greets awkwardly.

“Hey,” he pants again.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just… uh, ran up the stairs to answer my phone,” he continues to breathe heavily.

“Oh,” she laughs nervously, “and you made it on the third ring? That’s impressive.”

“…Yeah.”

“Well I was just calling to say I miss you and tell you that I had a really great day at work today.”

“Yeah?” He sounds distracted and Regina begins to feel foolish about the whole thing. Maybe calling Graham wasn’t a great idea.

“Yeah, but we can talk about it when you get home.” A sad smile dances across her face.

“Uh huh, sounds good. Look, Regina, I gotta go but I’ll try and call again soon. I’ll see you in ten days okay? Goodnight.”

“Ten days,” she reiterates, “goodnight.”

And then the line goes dead.

She sighs, defeatedly, and peeks in her refrigerator for food but she isn’t all that hungry. So she decides to forgo dinner and just go to bed early. When she returns to the table to collect her things, her school bag catches her eye, a piece of paper hanging out of it. As she approaches and pulls it out, she discovers it as the sketch of Rocinante, bringing a genuine smile back to her features.

She immediately knows what to do with the piece of paper, then. She walks over to her refrigerator, once more, lifts a magnet and slips Robin's drawing underneath, knowing that it’ll bring her, at least, a little bit of joy every time she passes by it.

Just because Rocinante, of course.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s 3 o’clock in the morning and Robin has yet to have fallen asleep. Instead, he’s laying down flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, mapping out the designs, as if they are constellations. He thinks that he might have found one pattern that looks like a bow and arrow but that could just be the fatigue talking. He’s tired, he really is, but no matter how hard he tries to submit to it, his eyes remain open.

It’s dead silent throughout the rest of the apartment. John hasn’t come home yet to turn in and Robin has no idea when he’ll be back. Perhaps, he got lucky. He has been excelling in his pick up lessons with Robin. Thankfully, he’d learned the art of not being so crass or condescending when it comes to women.

At least one of them is getting laid.

It probably isn’t his most brilliant idea, but Robin still wrestles himself out of bed, picks up his phone and treks into the kitchen for a beer. He pops the cap off the bottle and sits at the dining room table, laying his phone down in front of him. He goes for his email first but he hasn’t received any new ones since the one from Ashley, the secretary, which was labeled FIRST DAY NOTICE and merely reminded them to turn in their paperwork before noon.

Honestly, choosing his email was probably in poor taste, because he’s trying to forget that his first day is tomorrow and that he’s a nervous wreck. Sure, five year olds aren’t that difficult to impress but it’s nevertheless unnerving. This is not his first job but the last place he worked at was a nightmare and he’s fairly terrified that this could go similarly. Not that the people at Blanchard Orchard (sans a certain raven haired beauty) aren’t really nice people and the environment isn’t wonderful but his fears are as they are and can be justified based on his past experience.

He just doesn’t want to cock this up because he can finally settle and do something for himself—get out from underneath his parent’s shadows.

He goes for Facebook next, which is littered with several new friend requests, all from the female population at Blanchard Orchard and something Robin can’t help but smirk at. But he’d promised himself that he isn’t going to worm his way through the staff because that would be the number one way on how to fuck the whole thing up—literally and figuratively. Decidedly, it’s best to keep his dating pool outside the realm of Blanchard Orchard Elementary School.

But friends, he will indeed make, so he clicks the accept button for each of his new requests, and not without taking a peek at each of their profiles to see what they’re about. Surprisingly, the majority of them are in relationships of some nature. At least, they don’t disappoint, they’re just like he expected them to be.

He sighs to himself. This is exactly why he does what he does.

The fun of looking at his coworkers, and newfound Facebook friends, becomes tiring rather quickly and he resigns that task but not before a new temptation creeps into his head. His thumbs think for themselves as they type away in the search bar: _Regina Mills._

He thinks to take a look at her pictures but ultimately decides against it, thinking that it might be a bit too weird. Although, if he’s being honest, it’s all a bit strange and very uncharacteristic of Robin Locksley, who doesn’t care to get to know women because they fly in one day and then they’re out the next.

This is a mistake.

He chooses to back out then and find something else entertaining on his cell phone besides Facebook stalking.

His fingers lightly skim over the screen trying to choose something. He decides on calling John, just to see, though it’s doubtful that he’ll answer, and with any hope for good reason. He clicks down to the L but misses slightly and lands in the M section instead.

The first name he sees is Marian Maiden. He purses his lips at the sight, wondering if she misses him or if she’s moved on in her life. A brief thought flies across his mind to call her, she’d be awake now and maybe they could chat—they’re civilized enough for that, right?

No maybe it’s a bad idea.

So he resigns, but not before his fingers fumble and his phone dances in his hands momentarily then lands on the table with a thud. He curses as he lifts it, worried that the screen may have cracked. Thankfully, it hadn’t, but that is the least of his worries as he realizes that his phone is calling someone. He releases a stream of panicked ‘shit’s’ while he quickly taps away at the end call button.

Hopefully, she would understand that it was a mistake and that he hadn’t meant to call her and wouldn’t call back to confirm that. He sighs in relief as he sets his phone back down gently on the table and continually thanks his lucky stars that he she hadn’t answered.

But his relief goes as quickly as it came because, as he takes another sip of beer, his phone rings. He jumps at first, since he really didn’t think that she would call back. The panic seeps back into him as he debates on whether or not to answer, but he finds himself swiftly tapping the green button before he can change his own mind.

“Uh, hello?” he begins nervously.

“And just why are you calling me at 3 AM, thief?” he hears her voice

He goes quiet momentarily, contemplating how he should answer. It could just be dignified with the truth that he accidentally called her while attempting to call John, but truthfully that’s not the answer he wants to give because then she’ll just hang up  and that’ll be the extent of their conversation.

Of course, it’s only because it’s three in the morning and he’s wide awake with the desperation to talk to just about anyone. His desire does not extend solely to Regina Mills.

“Hello?” her voice lilts through the receiver again.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he answers blankly as he twists his beer bottle around at the neck.

“Then answer my question.”

He selects avoidance instead, “Why’re you up at 3 AM?”

“That’s none of your business,” she retorts and he only grins, picturing her tilting her face up to the ceiling with an air that he’s surprised that doesn’t have her floating right into the sky.

“Then why did you bother calling back?”

“Because you called me first.”

“Yes, but you could’ve easily assumed it was a mistake and asked me the next day.”

“Was it?”

“It’s need to know.”

She scoffs into the receiver and adds, “So why are you up at 3AM?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answers simply.

“An insomniac artist—how very cliché of you.”

“Ah, yes, but if I’m a walking cliché, then as the story goes, you’re supposed to be the girl that’s obsessed with me in the end.”

“Oh please, as if.”

There’s another brief pause before they speak again, and at the same time no less, but Robin, being the gentleman that he is concedes and allows her to speak.

“And just why can’t you sleep?” Her voice is dripping with fatigue and he feels a twinge of worry that she’s awake at such a late (early?) hour when it’s clear that she needs rest. What could be keeping her up like that? He’s just about to concernedly instruct her to go to get the sleep she certainly needs but she speaks again before he can utter a single syllable, “What also need to know?”

“Nope.”

“Then what is it?”

He sighs, feeling somewhat silly over the whole thing and perhaps he is. What’s so terrifying about five year olds? He thinks to just tell her that it really is insomnia or something, like this is a commonality for him but he finds that he doesn’t want to lie to her. It’s like he feels like that he can tell her anything, like he feels no apprehension about honesty. 

“Nerves,” his answer is blunt.

“For tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah yes, because five year olds are savage,” she jokes.

“Hey, they can be. They bite and can be very mean.” He pouts despite the fact that she can’t see it, though he likes to think that she’s imagining the way he looks, just in the way he’s doing for her now. (Simply because he’s a visual learner, of course). Besides, he’s sure that the overall demeanor attributes to his tone so that she can sense it.

“Oh get a grip.” Even though she tries to sound tough and knowing, Robin can hear the smile in her voice—or is that just what he’s picturing? It’s of no consequence because her voice is sobered regardless with her next phrase, “You’re going to be fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Can’t be worse than my first day,” she offers.

He chuckles softly, intrigued by the suggestion. “How’d that go?”

She sighs gently into the phone. “So I had this kid Owen, sweet kid, but incredibly paranoid. Swore all day that I’d hurt his dad and hid him because he wasn’t there. I don’t know why he thought that but he told me that several times during the day and then he proceeded to have a meltdown as we were walking to recess because he thought I was taking him to his dad.”

Robin can’t help but start laughing and only manages to laugh harder when she mutters that it wasn’t funny into the receiver. It sounds like a nightmare and he tells her so, which she confirms wholeheartedly.

“What did you do?”

“Sat him with the principal. He was a troubled kid, it turns out. His dad was the only one raising him after his mom left them and he just had a lot of trust issues whenever his dad was out of sight. He was a really smart kid, just had a lot of baggage.” The fatigue in her voice gets heavier with each syllable.

He just can’t hang up though.

“Baggage for a second grader?” he jests.

“You’d be surprised.”

“No, I’ve come across a few five year olds with some baggage, unfortunately.”

That truth is rather heartbreaking to him. Children should never have to grow up faster than they’re supposed to, and yet, with each passing day the kids seem to be acting a whole lot older than they really are.  Perhaps, it makes him sound like an 80 year old cliché (lovely-- now she’s got him stuck on that) but what happened to children just playing in parks until the late evening when they were called in for dinner, and then they would go to bed without a care in the world. Now, it seems five is the new twenty and it’s only getting worse. Thankfully, he probably won’t spawn any rugrats of his own to expose to all of that. That’s, at least, one good thing that can come out of his choices.

“So is this your first American teaching job?” She breaks the new silence that has befallen them.

“Yes and no. I got a long term sub job in LA for a first grade position but this is my first actual full time teaching job here in the states.”

“Oh, maybe you should be scared,” she teases.

“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence there.”

“Listen to me,” her voice sterns up a bit. “You’re going to be just fine. Take a deep breath and relax. As long as you don’t lose a kid or get one killed, you’ll be okay. You’re gonna get the hang of the way things run at Blanchard Orchard easily. Just don’t get overwhelmed and don’t be intimidated. Put on a good smile and it’ll all work out.”

“Fake it until you make it, huh?”

“I’m sure being fake is something you’ve probably mastered.”

“I’d like to call it charm instead,” he answers airily.

She gives a boisterous laugh in return but says nothing else. He thinks he hears her yawn. Truthfully, he’s dying to know what’s nagging her and keeping her and what can be done to remedy that. Of course, he chalks that up to mere curiosity and nothing more, but still the fact remains.

“You should get some sleep,” he tells her and he knows there is a bit too much concern to his voice but he doesn’t care at this point.

“So should you.”

“Well then give me a reason not to stay up, and hang up and go to bed.” It’s risky because he knows that, at least, part of him doesn’t want her to take on that dare, but at the same time, another part of him wants her to because she needs to rest. It doesn’t matter since it’s out but that doesn’t stop his mind from ricocheting back and forth between the two.

“And if I don’t?” she counters.

“Then you’ll be really tired.”

“So will you.”

Stubborn, stubborn woman, he smirks to himself. “So don’t let me be.”

“You’re the one who’s worried so much, so _you_ don’t let _me_.”

“I’m not worried,” he corrects.

“Then why haven’t you just hung up?”

“Why haven’t you?” he retorts.

“Is this the game we’re gonna play all night?”

His voice picks up a sing-songy sound when he says, “You could end it quite easily by going to bed.”

“There’s no guarantee that I will go to bed when this phone call ends, anyway.” He loathes the way his heart lifts at the idea that she is fighting to stay on the phone, especially when he knows that she’s only doing it because she can’t accept losing or being wrong (he can tell that much about her—she’s just the type) and that’s exactly what he’s doing, right? Right?

He just wants to win. That’s it. That’s all there is.

His ulterior motives win out though. “But, at least, there’s a chance right?”

She’s quiet then, aside from a defeated sigh. “No, you might bore me to sleep here first. Might as well exhaust that option, then move on.”

“So you want to stay on the phone with me?”

“No.”

“Okay…” he trails off.

He knows he’s got her because now she has to choose between her dislike for him and her need to be right. There’s an extended pause before she finally sighs and gives into his suggestion.

“Yeah I guess you really should give into your weakness and go to bed so you can face the terrifying five year old contingent tomorrow.”

“Yep, I can’t believe you kept me up like this. Calling me at three in the morning. What’s wrong with you?”

She scoffs, “Shut up, you called me first.”

“You called back.”

She sighs exasperatedly.  “Goodnight thief.”

He grins at the sound of his triumph coming from her lips but and bids her goodnight with a thank you for the advice as a follow up.

“Yeah, don’t screw up.”

“Ha, thanks.”

“Mhm. I would say anytime but that’s never going to happen again so there you have it.” Her voice is terse and businesslike but Robin likes it all the more. She’s just resisting, that’s all.

“We’ll see about that. But for now, sleep well darling. Goodnight.”

Darling?

Did he just call her darling? No, he simply imagined it—oh, but that would be worse because that means he wants to call her darling, which he doesn’t because that’s not how he sees her. Not to mention, there’s nothing ‘darling’ about a high maintenance, control freak who expects nothing but her way and is incredibly uncongenial.

She doesn’t hang up and he’s certain that it’s because she’s also musing on the darling dub she just received. He wonders if she’ll ask or tease or pass it off. Frankly, he doesn’t really have a decent way out of this.

“Goodnight, Robin.” And then there’s a beeping in his ear to announce the end of the call.

Robin.

She said his name.

He’s smiling stupidly to himself as he goes to drink the last of his beer, which had all but gone totally flat but he downs it anyway, tosses it in the trash and then heads to his room where he can finally get some sleep.

[:]

It’s 7:05 when he’s walking in the doors of Blanchard Orchard Elementary School, which could either lead to the best or the worst day of his entire life. He’s a bundle of nerves just as before, butterflies clogging up every single one of his airways. Oh, who was he to think that he could do this? Maybe his old codger of a father was right.

_Please, come off it son, you’re making a mistake, you can go gallivanting all over the states if you wish but you know it will only end up being a fools’ errand._

_And staying here, father, would be a fool’s end._

He’s being silly and he knows it, he can’t help but let it nag at him incessantly as he clocks in and makes his way into the rather chilly conference room—it seems the central cooling system has been repaired.

There’s light chatter all over and he nods at the few who greet him as he walks in but he’s distracted by his search for one face in particular. And she’s there; off in the far corner of the room, Kathryn bunched right up next to her side and chatting away in her ear. Her arms are crossed loosely just under the curve of her breasts, those very breasts that are pillowing ever so slightly out of the top of her yellow blouse and are giving ample distraction to him. Perhaps, she senses him looking at her because her eyes move suddenly to meet with his (thankfully, he’d raised them in time so that she isn’t aware how he was staring unsubtly at her chest—or did she?) She gives a short and simple nod, which he returns in like manner and then turns to say something at Kathryn.

In order to prevent any embarrassment of getting caught looking at her any further, he scans the room, trying to take in all the faces he still needs to familiarize himself with, and that was going to be an entirely difficult task in and of itself because his memory is shit. He’s sure that by the time the school year is over, he’ll have called every staff member something other than their actual name. It’s none too disconcerting, they’ll learn to love it and think of it endearingly, right?

He spots his chance to start his own flow when he spots a young woman standing along the wall adjacent to his own. She’s staring at something, he notices, and follows her line of sight to another girl on the same wall as him. She’s beautiful, the girl next to him (and the girl who’s staring but he’s now also transfixed by the other), with her copper red hair and truly stunning blue eyes that seem so bright, had the lights gone out, she could still illuminate the room. Then there’s her skin, porcelain white and so clear, it’s nearly transparent. He can’t blame the girl for staring. Maybe she’s jealous of her or something because the man she’s talking to isn’t a terrible looking chap either, but the longing in the first girl’s eyes indicate something completely different.

Robin can’t fight his feet, as they move in the direction of the lonely girl, who doesn’t even notice him approaching as she’s driven to distraction over her distant crush.

“You should tell her you know,” he speaks quietly to her once he’s settled beside her.

She jumps, torn away from her reverie. She straightens and unwillingly rips her gaze away to look over to Robin. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Oh?” he inquires. “Telling someone that you love, that you love them is incredibly simple.”

He’s not sure about how much he really believes that. There’s nothing simple about love. A couple can’t just be blissfully happy because one of them has to go and fuck it up somehow because they can’t keep things as they are. They fear stagnation and just have to search for a way to fix, which inevitably leads to a major disaster and subsequently either ends in divorce/breakup or continues miserably for the rest of their lives.

How had he gotten so cynical?

And if he is so cynical, why is he giving hopelessly romantic advice to someone?

“Not when they don’t love you in the same way,” her voice is softer and trails off to an even softer sound as she glances downward at her toes.

“And how do you know?”

“Well, for starters, she’s married. You see that guy over there that she’s talking to?” she quickly points and then moves her hand away so that no one else will see. “That’s her husband, Phillip Prince.”

Oh. She’s not gay.

Robin’s uncertain of what to say then because, well what do you say to unrequited love?

“Maybe she doesn’t know,” he offers.

The girl just scoffs out a ‘yeah right’ and digs her shoe into the carpet.

“How long’ve you had a thing for her?”

She doesn’t speak immediately, and instead, allows for her light brown skin to warm at the cheeks, while she pushes a thread of jet black hair behind her ear. “Four years, going on five,” she finally sighs.

Robin lets out soft descending whistle.

“Yeah.”

“And you haven’t met anyone new?”

She shakes her head solemnly twice and then looks back over at the girl in the distance.

“Well maybe it’s time you looked?”

“Maybe.”

Robin then pivots into her line of sight, blocking her gaze at the other girl. His chest swells and he extends a hand to hers. “And with that, I’d love to be of assistance. Robin Locksley, at your service.”

“Magnolia Ping.” She shakes his hand, adding, “You’d really do that?”

“Of course,” he answers kindly, giving a final squeeze to her hand.

“Thank you, Robin. I think you’ll be a great here.” She finishes with a kind smile.

His heart soars and he’s pretty sure it lands on his face for the entire world to see how happy he is to hear such a thing. He goes to thank her but a different voice fills the space, calling the room together. As his eyes lift, they somehow find brown ones, and not the ones right in front of him, but rather the ones across the way belonging to one Regina Mills. She quickly darts her eyes away and he wonders how long she’s been looking but he knows he needs to focus because Mr. Nolan is now speaking, welcoming them all back for the school year and reminding them of certain procedures.

Robin feels his pulse quickening at the idea that this is finally happening.

His heartbeat doesn’t even get a chance to slow down before David is telling them to enjoy their first day back at Blanchard Orchard and to make it the great start to the school year.

Here goes nothing.

[:]

The start of his day goes smoothly.

He has 17 kids and every one of them was present that morning. He has the smallest amount and he assumes it was chosen that way for good reason by Mr. Nolan. It also seems like Mr. Nolan chose the nicest children out of the student pot to give him because they were really great that morning when he sat them down on the carpet and introduced himself and his aide Ms. Lucas, who appears to be like a grouchy old bat, but was nevertheless fantastic with the children.

She was particularly good at keeping them in order when he was assigning seats to each child. He’d have them walk up to him, while he was sitting ‘crisscross apple sauce’ on the carpet, and tell him their name and he would answer with a chair that they were to sit in. All the while, Ms. Lucas was keeping them quiet and fussing away at them to be still.

But it was nice. He finally has a classroom of his own, where he has the freedom to teach these children and be on his own. His parents could totally shove it.

He’d have to remember to give them a ring to rub it all in their faces.

But perhaps he should wait until he’s gotten through the day.

And it’s good he’s kept that promise to himself because the day does come with a few downsides. By activity time, he’s had two kids cry and one kid wet himself and he’s entirely exhausted but he continuously reminds himself that it’s all worth it.

Honestly, he’s the only one to blame. Had he not stayed up until past 3 in the morning talking with Regina, he might not be so tired and overwhelmed. But now’s his chance; he can finally take a breath after he drops them off. There’s not much for him to do during his planning period, what with it being the first day and all, and him having already planned out the entire first two weeks—okay, so maybe last night wasn’t his first 3 AM session but he just wanted everything to be perfect.

Maybe he’ll just rest his eyes for a second. He’ll set his alarm so that he’ll get his kids on time and then take a very, very, very short cat nap.

But his planning is to no avail because as soon as he allows for his eyelids to flutter shut, a voice comes over his intercom.

“Mr. Locksley?”

He tosses his head back lazily, attempting to stifle the groan clawing its way out of his throat. “Yes?”

“You’re needed in the office.”

His heart stops like anyone’s would. It was just like being in school, when he was called to the principal’s office and a feeling of dread overwhelmed him even though he knew that he was a prime student who didn’t really break the rules (that often) and yet he was always worried that he was getting caught with something. Hopefully, this time would bear similar fruit and be a pleasant visit rather than a hostile one.

“Be right there,” he hollers back.

“Okay, and can you go get Ms. Mills, she’s out at recess and forgot the walkie.”

His heart drops for a second. Why would they need the two of them? Did they hear about the bar? What is he saying—they can’t get in any trouble for what happened at the bar. They didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe a parent complained or something. Or maybe Regina complained about him. She wouldn’t do that, though. They’re on good terms nearly friendly terms, he asserts. There’s no way she’d slander him now. Oh, he’s being foolish again; it’s probably just to discuss the mural. Perhaps, the art teacher has a question.

He takes a deep breath. “Yep!”

The other end doesn’t answer with anything but a click Robin heaves himself out of his chair to go fetch Regina.

[:]

He likes watching her get irritated with him, he’s understood that much. Every time that she sighs or rolls her eyes at him, he can’t help but grin because of it, she’s cute when she’s angry. Not that he thinks she’s cute or anything. Bloody hell, who’s he kidding? She is a gorgeous woman, that’s empirical fact, regardless of the circumstances, but just because he wants to shag her, does not mean that he likes her or anything.

So he denies the flutter in his chest saying otherwise when she greets him, “Couldn’t handle them after all or did you need more advice for your plethora of problems?”

“Yeah actually,” he starts, as he plops down next to her on the bench, “you know, I do have this major problem.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, this girl, she’s so mean and she practically bullies me all the time and I don’t know why.” He mocks a sadness that has her fighting a smile.

“Really, and who is this girl?”

He leans in closer to her face, as if he’s telling a secret. “I don’t know that I should tell you, she might bully you next.”

“I feel like I could take her,” she jests.

“I don’t know,” he shifts his pretense to dubiousness. “She’s really mean and is notorious for making people cry, especially little children… oh, and boyfriends.”

“Shut up,” she shoves him.

He guesses she must have reconciled with her lover because the joke remains light but it’s a fleeting thought, he doesn’t care about her ‘boyfriend.’

“See!” he exclaims. “She pushes people! She’s downright dreadful!”

“Maybe you deserved it,” she tilts her nose up.

“Wow,” he drawls. “And then she blames me. Is anyone else seeing this?”

He glances around and sees another teacher scolding a student across the playground. The little kid is red in the face, tears streaming down and looking up hopelessly at the woman. What a wonderful first day for them…

His focus returns quickly to Regina though, who he can swear just moved closer to him. And who’s he to protest? So he lets her and then does a little bit of shifting himself to be closer. Her palm is laid flat on the bench and he hadn’t paid mind to the fact that his own hand had settled not far from hers in the same position.

He inches it a little closer to hers.

Gods, he likes how the sunlight catches her hair.

Closer.

A breeze comes—her perfume smells amazing.

Did she just move closer?

Wait, what is he supposed to be doing again?

Who cares, it’s his turn to move closer and now there is but a sliver of space between their hands, he can practically feel the chill from hers.  But his next and final move is not one just for warming her hand. Their entire sides are now linked to one another, the side of his hand seaming together with hers, shoulders and arms solidly pressed together and even their calves are side by side.

What is he doing?

But instead of fighting against it, as he should be, he only furthers their link by slipping his leg beneath hers so that their calves are now intertwined. He thinks he feels her leg tighten slightly around his and his breathing has suddenly become a bit more labored.

“Robin?” she asks mindlessly

“Hm?” he hums.

“What are you doing out here?”

And that immediately takes him back.

Shit. Office. They’re supposed to be in the office. Oh bollocks.

“I was supposed to come and fetch you,” he answers sheepishly while, lifting their legs to balance in the air. She still doesn’t uncoil herself.

“Oh, I didn’t know you’d applied for the secretary job.”

“No, we’re needed in there together.”

Her face changes then, panicked. “Why?”

“Dunno.”

She does unravel their legs then and faces him, countenance worry stricken.

“Regina,” he says soothingly and placing a hand on her kneecap. Her breath hitches before he can say, “I’m sure you’re fine. I’m sure we’re both fine. It’s probably just the mural thing. What else could it be?”

She muses then and clearly mulls over what he says. “Okay, then, let’s go.”

He feels the warmth that had grown between them dissipates and he grimaces at its absence before Regina turns and asks if he’s coming, to which he agreeably hops up and follows her to whatever it is that awaits them in the office.

[:]

“About time,” Ashley barks as they file in. “Where were you two?”

“I had to deal with a student first,” Regina covers. She’s a really good liar, interesting.

Ashley just shrugs and doesn’t press the matter any further, and instead waves for them to follow her to the back hallway of the office and onward to Mr. Nolan’s door. She raps on the door three times. David’s voice calls for them to enter and Ashley leaves them to it.

Robin opens the door for Regina to enter and he can hear her mutter under her breath, “Always such a gentleman.”

“That I am,” he whispers back.

They’re greeted by not one face, but four—Mr. Nolan, two young boys and a woman with curly fire red hair, fair skin and icy cold blue eyes.

“Ms. Mills, Mr. Locksley, I’d like you to meet Henry and Roland. They are going to be our newest students at Blanchard Orchard.” Nolan gestures at each and waits for them to shake everyone’s hands before introducing the other member of the room. “And this is Zelena West, their... guardian”

“How do you do?” she asks tersely, barely glancing up from her phone, which is practically glued to her face.

“Hi, I’m Robin Locksley and this is Regina Mills. We’re so excited to teach your boys this school year. I’m sure that we can send our contact info via the boys so that you’ll have a way to get in touch and I’m sure-”

But Ms. West merely cuts him off, “Yes thank you. Look, I gotta run. I’m good here, yeah?” she asks looking over at Mr. Nolan for approval, who gives it. Then her attention returns to the boys, “You two better behave. I don’t want to hear about any nonsense later, am I clear?”

“Crystal,” the older boy mumbles.

Then the red head stalks out, hips swinging violently, so much so that he’s certain that had anyone been in her path that she might have knocked someone out. He glances knowingly over at Regina, who’s doing the exact same thing.

“Now,” Mr. Nolan claps his hands together, “okay so Roland, this is Mr. Locksley, and he’s your teacher, okay?” Nolan’s hands are on the shoulders of the little boy, steering him forward.

Roland’s curls bounce up and down with the bob of his head. They’re black as night and very thick just like his lashes, which are the cover for his deep muddy brown eyes that shine with an incomparable innocence. And his smile that might be Robin’s undoing, is to die for, his dimples crater in his face just as Robin’s does but there is a particular cuteness and kindness that Robin could never master on his own. Robin can already feel his heart tug to this child, and even more so when the little boy rushes over to Robin as fast as his little legs can take him.

Robin automatically squats down so that he can be face to face, as he catches the boy between his hands. “Well hi there.”

“Hi, I’m Roland,” he informs him sweetly, with a tiny voice that could melt the hearts of millions.

“Hi Roland, are you excited to be here?” he talks excitedly to him.

“Yup!”

“Yes,” Robin corrects. “Well, I’m very excited to have you here. I think you’ll really like it. Okay?” He scoots Roland back to put some space between them. And place his hand out, palm facing upwards to that Roland can ‘give him a five,’ which he does and Robin clasps his hand down on Roland’s little one so that he can hold onto it. “Alrighty then.”

Robin rises, still clutching onto the hand of the little boy as Mr. Nolan introduces his brother.

“Regina, this is Henry.” He makes the same move as he did with Roland, hands pressed to shoulders and inching him forward to his respective teacher.

Regina tenses and grimaces at the introduction, causing Robin to furrow his brow in concern for his coworker. Perhaps, she could sense that the child was going to be troublesome?

Nevertheless, Regina gains her composure once more and introduces herself to the boy.

“Don’t bother,” he hears him mumble to which Regina sterns up and asks what that’s supposed to mean. He answers simply, “We won’t be here long probably anyway.”

“Why would you say that?” she’s confused and as is Robin but before the boy can answer, David is pushing them out the door and asking if he can speak to Mr. Locksley and Ms. Mills privately for a second.

When he’s got the door closed after telling the boys to go sit in the lobby for a minute, he tells Regina and Robin how they are wards of the state. They were orphaned a little over a year ago and now that they are on their sixth foster home.

“Sixth?” Regina blurts out.

“Yes, apparently the older one, Henry, he’s been a bit of a troublemaker. And Roland, though he’s amiable and cooperative, he apparently becomes impossible without his brother. So, they’ve been a package deal ever since. Although, I don’t know how much longer that will last.” He darts his eyes sideways and Robin feels a touch of anger, just briefly. No one should be taken away from someone they love if they have no reason to be separated. He tells Regina to keep a special eye out for Henry (did she flinch again?), especially because he’s now supposed to be in third grade but was kept back because of his math scores.

She agrees and then both of them are sent out to retrieve their respective students and then they are left to their own devices. Robin and Regina watch as Roland realizes that they’re about to be split up and Henry jumps into action telling Roland that he’ll be okay and that he’ll see him in a few hours. Then he places a kiss on Roland’s crown and the sniffling stops. How could anyone think the boy was anything but a good kid? Yeah, he acted out, but who could blame him when he got dealt a shit hand?

Robin nearly doesn’t notice how Regina is saying that she’ll see him later as she’s ushering Henry out the door. And he manages a quick ‘yeah,’ before the door clicks shut behind them. Afterward, his eyes find Roland again, whose bottom lip is trembling as he watches his big brother follow Regina down the hall and out of sight. “Hey now,” he scolds and kneels down to eye level with Roland once again. “You’re going to see your brother very soon, I promise. And in the meantime, you and I are going to meet your new classmates and have some fun, how’s that sound?”

“Good,” he answers tearfully.

“Good,” Robin returns more matter-of-factly and grabs Roland’s hand as he’d done before. “Shall we?”

Roland’s head nods profusely and Robin chuckles, guiding him out into the halls to go fetch his new fellow classmates.

[:]

Roland turns out to be a hit with the other children. He found a particularly close playmate in one Nicholas Zimmer and he seemed to acquaint well with all of them throughout the day.

Robin knew the moment he met him that that kids was going to be someone special to him, and he is certain of it now as he’s watching him and his brother run over to their car. To make matters worse, Roland turns and waves goodbye at Robin before Henry and their guardian fuss at him to get into the car.

He shouldn’t get attached, he knows this, but he’s already in too deep.

Robin’s now shuffling back to his room, when he spots a flustered Regina Mills waltzing out of the office.

“Hey!” he calls out to her and runs over. “Did you enjoy your first day back, Ms. Mills?”

“I was until I realized the lollipop guild didn’t destroy you after all,” she shoots back, but with a more disheartened tone.

“Sorry to disappoint.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

“Aren’t you always a disappointment?”

“That’s what they tell me anyway.”

She pauses, deliberating on an answer, he supposes, and decides on, “Well you’re doing a fantastic job.”

He puts his hand to his chest, “That is so sweet, you telling me I’m doing a good job.”

Her eyes roll away from his but he knows she’ the furthest from annoyed, “Don’t you have to go learn your ABC’s or something? You should probably make sure you know them before you try and tell them to your evil five year old brigade.”

“Well, the moment was nice while it lasted. Suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“All depends on my luck, I guess.”

He barks out a laugh and then looks solidly into her eyes. He’s always had a thing for brown eyed girls. And hers are like warm ooey gooey melted chocolate. “Thank you for the pep talk by the way, I really appreciate it,” he tells her sincerely. He holds her gaze for a few breaths, before giving her a small smile and walking away.

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t expect it often,” she hollers after him.

Oh but he does. He does.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I’d like to give a quick shout out to Robin for the artwork she did for Study Hall. I love it! Thank you again! And one more to Chelsea, whose sarcasm is unparalleled and sponsored my favorite moment of this chapter.

His name is Henry.

And if karma ever had it out for Regina Mills, now was surely the time it’d chosen to make its fatal wound.

How it happened, she has no clue, but it certainly did, and not a singular soul can understand why she’s suddenly turned into an absolute basket case, but that has not stopped a particular Robin Locksley from trying. As her week dwindles down to the dregs of Friday afternoon car duty, he still hasn’t let up on the matter. It’s when Roland and Henry are scurrying away, hand in hand, to their car, that he takes his chance to walk up behind her and bid them farewell, making sure to enunciate Henry’s name just enough to grate her nerves. He’s realized that the name is what shakes her but she’s been stubborn and unrelenting, leaving him to push every button to get her to break.

It was Tuesday afternoon when he first confronted her over it. David and Ella had called them in for a brief meeting about the boys, once again, and to give them a more detailed background and plan for them without the boys’ presence. She didn’t mean to shudder when David said Henry’s name but it was a visceral reaction, one far out of her control. She’d hoped that nobody noticed but, of course, Robin had to pick up on it easily. And he wasn’t going to just ignore it either because he followed her down to her classroom, asking her along the way what was troubling her. Naturally, she balked at him and asked why he cared so much, a facet he defensively denied, though that  hadn’t stopped his pestering--and it’s still continuing.

She doesn’t understand why he has to be so damn nosy and why he can’t accept that some things are just none of his business, but he’s persistent and successfully driving her crazy, which is why she shoves him, probably harder than she means, but if he wasn’t being such an asshole, she wouldn’t have had to. He asked for it.

“Getting testy, Ms. Mills?” he’s teasing her.

“No, just trying to figure out how many of these children I can bribe to keep their mouths shut with ice cream and candy after I murder you,” she hisses back at him quietly, tilting her face just so that he can see her feigned smile.

He swoops behind her to lean up onto her shoulder, hovering his chin there and leaving mere centimeters between their faces. He’s been doing it all week, touching her in various places—nothing inappropriate but he just seems less… inhibited when it comes to being near her and he keeps at it, most likely because she’s yet to have fended him off. Honestly, she doesn’t mind at all. She’s never been one for possessive grabbing or anything, but gentle, warm, and comfortable touches always give her solace.  Not to mention, she’s been deprived of any touch from Graham for nearly two whole weeks (which is finally over tomorrow, thank goodness) so filling the void whilst he’s gone isn’t wrong.

Of course, not to say that she’s using Robin to fill any kind of void like the one Graham left but he’s been a presence, that’s all.

“My bets on the one with the glasses,” he points at his culprit. “He won’t last a day.”

Regina snorts out a tiny laugh and swats at his finger. “Stop,” she scolds.

“Just warning you, you should always keep an eye on the quiet ones.”

Her face turns before she thinks about it, leaving her lips to graze gently across the space between them, missing his cheek by a millimeter, if that.

“You want to kiss and make up, is that it?” he smirks to the road.

If Regina Mills is being completely honest with herself, then she’d admit that she has considered what it would be like to kiss Robin. Truthfully, though, who wouldn’t? He’s attractive and apparently (and surprisingly) women seem to like him so there must be some appeal. And so what if she’s wasted a few minutes thinking about what it would feel like to have Robin’s warm lips caress her own.

That doesn’t mean anything. It’s simply curiosity.

“You wish,” she shoots back coolly.

“Is that so terrible?” he asks, dropping his voice deep and low and making her legs feel a bit like jelly.

She moves out of his framework, then, to get a proper look at him. She’s certain that she has hallucinated or something and Robin said no such thing, but the tilt of his head and the rise in his brow begs to differ. It was flattering to say the least but also wholly unnerving. It must be a dream, she’s certain that it has to be. Although, that might not be exactly be a good thing either.

Her eyelids begin to blink rapidly, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh calm down, you,” he waves it off, as he walks past her to the last three children waiting to be picked up by their parents.

Regina isn’t all that sure how to respond, mostly because she can’t figure out how serious Robin is about the situation. Although it’s not really about how serious he is, but rather how serious she is, which she could easily tell herself was not at all but the flutter in her chest says otherwise. God, she needs Graham to return. She’s been too lonely for too long.

That’s a ridiculous notion, though because she doesn’t need anyone, she’s okay with being alone. Her libido, on the other hand, doesn’t really prefer loneliness but that’s something she can handle and take care of, if necessary, on her own.

It’s like the world hears her cry because as she’s returning to Robin’s side to retort something about being smoother when hitting on a lady, another car is pulling up, one that does not belong to the remaining children. Her brows knit together as her confusion formulates into a singular question, “Graham?”

When the vehicle approaches, the window rolls down slowly to reveal that very identity that she’d just put into question. She reiterates his name in the same manner for him to hear. He isn’t supposed to be back yet, and not that she isn’t totally pleased over his prompt return, she’s nevertheless caught off guard.

She’s so focused on her own thoughts that she nearly misses him saying, “Yes, I’m here to pick up Regina Mills.”

“What are you doing here?”

He lifts his index finger, prompting her to wait a moment as he scrambles out of his car and over to the other side where she is standing. He doesn’t even answer her question, but instead envelops her in a bearish hug, lifting her feet off of the ground and spinning her in a solitary loop. Once her feet touch back to the ground, she repeats herself.

“I came home a day early because I missed you so much,” he tells her while leaning in to peck her softly on the lips.

She pulls away rather quickly, not being one for PDA. That’s supposed to be a private matter, one not shared so openly with the public, and especially given her current audience. “I missed you, too.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, “Phew, I was worried there for a moment.”

She scoffs but does not elicit any words, partially because she is lost for them but also because she can’t get a word in edgewise before Graham is speaking again, “Who’s this?” Her gaze follows his to the silhouette of Robin, who’s standing idly beside her, hands shoved deep into his pockets and staring off to the road leading up to the school.

“Oh, uh this is Robin, he’s my, uh newest coworker,” she stammers out a sorry excuse for an introduction, still trying to get her bearings.

“Ah, yes hi,” Robin greets absentmindedly, taking several seconds afterward to rip his gaze from the road and put them onto Graham. “Robin Locksley, pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Graham answers with a nod, one that Robin returns in likeness.

An awkward silence dares to creep into their conversation but Regina interjects before it can get too far, “He, um, took over Mary Margaret’s position this year.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Mhm.”

The silence gets more daring this time and wins over as Regina scans her brain for something to say but once again, Graham beats her to the punch. “So,” he drawls, turning her back to face him, “what say we have dinner tonight? I’ve missed those with you.”

“Yeah, I have a few things to do here and then I’ll need to go home and change but, yeah.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

 He kisses her again, trying to heat it up again but Regina is having none of that. “Graham,” she admonishes.

“Sorry,” he mutters into the space between them. “I’ve just missed you.”

“And I’ve missed you, but you should go home and I’ll call you when I’m done here, okay?”

“Yes, fine, okay.” He gives her a final peck that she doesn’t resist, knowing that it’s just that, before he walks back over to the driver’s side, gets in his car and drives away.

She turns back to look for her remaining company but she finds them leaving her behind too, as Robin is ushering them back into the school building.

“Sorry about that,” she pants once she reaches them again.

“It’s fine,” he brushes her off.

“It really wasn’t, though, it was unprofessional.”

“Regina,” he grabs her arm (there he goes touching her again), “it’s fine, really. Hey, go finish what you need to, I got this handled here.”

“What? No, I can stay. Graham can wait.”

“No, it’s fine. Go.”

Then he abandons her, for good, in the hall.

[:]

Regina missed Graham, really she had, but when she was getting ready for dinner, she only felt apprehensive and less inclined to even do it and it seemed like Graham wasn’t that far from her frequency either because dinner was, well… awkward—not painfully awkward but enough so that she felt out of place. They’d kept a steady conversation, but one that was polite and standard.

_How’ve you been?_

_Good. You?_

_Good. How was your first week back?_

_Pretty good, the kids are great and the staff is… the staff. How was Colorado?_

_Good, exhausting, but good._

_Did you have fun?_

_Yes._

And so on in a neverending marathon of who can keep the conversation off the ground the longest. They’d managed too, both of them able to keep it afloat, but not without a few not-so subtle pauses and eye avoidances. Regina had made it a point to stupidly question if it was always going to be like this now, and she got her answer, loud and clear once dinner had finished.

She’s sitting there silently watching Graham who’d just said that he needed to tell her something. A lot of things fly through her mind all at once. Perhaps, he is going to say that she was right and that the ‘I love you’ was premature or maybe just the opposite and he stands his ground and tells her that if she can’t say that she loves him, then it’s over. Although, it could be unrelated to their relationship status entirely, maybe something happened during his trip like a job offer or the decision to move to Colorado; and even though that’s absurd because one, he’d call with a major life decision as soon as he made it and two, Graham considers all things in his life before doing anything rash, she can’t help but convince herself that it’s one of those two because the other options aren’t ones that she’s very fond of. Well, aside from the one where he simply admits that she is right and takes the ‘I love you’ back.

“I…” he begins carefully and apprehensively, causing her palms to slicken up. “…was hoping it would be alright if we ended the night a bit early. Not that I’m not having a lovely time because I missed you,” he grabs her hand from across that table, “really, Regina, I missed you very much, but I’m really tired and worn out from the trip and I think I could use a good night’s rest.”

She feels a rush of air leave her lungs in relief. That’s not a problem at all, she can handle going home and seeing Graham another day. Sure, she’d like to spend the rest of the evening with him but if he needs a little space, she’d be more than happy to oblige. Besides it isn’t really that early, it’s 9:30 now because several obstacles impeded them from an early dinner.

“You can stay, if you’d like but I just-”

“Graham, it’s fine, I’m a little tired, too,” she reassures. It’s a lie, though; she isn’t tired at all, really, in fact, she could probably run a marathon with how awake she is.

But maybe she could stay and cuddle up in bed with him and do couple-y things. No, no, she knows that isn’t what she wants and she’ll regret it as soon as she wakes in the morning and climbs out of his bed like she always does, gathering her things and tiptoeing out into the hall.

She thinks of Robin then, whom she’d first encountered in a scenario quite like that, and her mind wanders off to curiosity over what he’s doing, if he was at that Rabbit Hole bar, getting lucky with some girl who inevitably lives here in this apartment complex and will bring him here to fuck her, only for him to grace Regina with his presence in the morning.

What is she doing?

This is about her and Graham. Robin Locksley has no business in her life, let alone her thoughts.

“Regina?”

She shakes herself out of her reverie and returns her attention to Graham who is looking at her confusedly. “Yeah? Sorry.”

“Look, I mean if you want to—we can—”

“No, it’s fine.” She rises from her chair and walks over to where he’s sitting to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Really, you get the rest you need and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“I actually have plans tomorrow,” he tells her sheepishly, gazing pointedly at the tile beneath her feet.

Oh. Well no matter, right? “Then, we’ll see each other whenever you are free again, okay?”

“Yeah,” he answers distantly.

Is something wrong, or is she imagining it? He’d seemed fine when he first arrived back home and met her at the school but now she feels that he’s far away. Regina does not want to be that girl who has to know every little detail and beg to know how their lover is feeling every second of the day. She doesn’t need to be in his head, she simply just needs to accept that he has other things going on besides his relationship (or whatever the hell it is at this point) with her.

He gets up while she’s reprimanding herself silently. But before her thoughts can get much further, Graham is guiding her to the door, grabbing her purse with his other hand and handing it to her. Then a simple, sweet goodbye preceded Regina standing alone in that danky hallway she hates so much and the door being closed in her face.

Now what?                                         

[:]

She knows she shouldn’t because she’s never really desired to be friends with Robin Locksley. Ever since she met him, that has been her least desire, but that doesn’t seem to stop her this time around. Instead, she’s sitting in her car switching her phone back and forth between each hand, debating on her cardinal rule with Robin. Unfortunately, he is the only one in the know about Graham, and though she doesn’t want to be a lunatic over nothing, she just wants to hear from someone else that she’s not a nut job—or even that she is and that there is nothing to worry over.

Oh screw it.

Her courage shines its way through and she clicks the phone next to his contact name.

One ring. Two. Three.

On the fourth ring, she considers it to be a mistake and that her earlier projection on Robin’s whereabouts might just be true. But it’s none too bothersome because as that fourth ring is coming to an end, it is finalized with a weary _hello_ , delivered by Robin.

“You’re awake,” she states dumbly.

“I am.”

She worries for a moment over the sleepiness in his voice, that, perhaps, she’d woken him, or that he was just about to go to bed, “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he sighs. “Although, you should learn some etiquette, calling people in the middle of the night like this,” he jokes.

“I don’t think I need to be told about etiquette by a thief,” she snaps.

He tells her that her conjecture is fair with a chuckle then follows up with why she’s calling. She asks if he’s terribly busy, to which he tells her he’s not and then she feels as the words just tumble off of her lips, telling Robin at lightning speed how she feels that Graham is suddenly distant and weird and that she knows she’s being anal and incredibly insane but no one else knows about ‘the thing’ and that’s why she’s calling.

“All because he made you wait outside the apartment door for a minute?”

“It’s not just that, he is a totally different person than the one you met at the school. But I don’t know why he did that, either.” She loathes herself so much for the way she’s speaking now but she can’t help it. “I—ugh—I thought that maybe he was surprising me for something but then I get there and dinner is just waiting for us.”

“Maybe he was putting the final touches on dinner?” he offers.

“Okay but then why would he lie and say he needed to get dressed?”

“Maybe he did.”

“I’ve seen him naked plenty of times, Robin.”

“Maybe he just didn’t want you see this time around?”

“Why?”

She’s getting irritated despite the fact that this conversation is going quite similarly to the way she planned. Or maybe she had planned for Robin to join her in conspiratorially deciding that Regina is not crazy and something is definitely up with Graham.

Robin must be able to tell because he’s suddenly diverting. “What are you doing right now?”

She’s stunted at first by the question. “Sitting in my car,” she finally informs him slowly.

“Perfect, even more convenient.”

She’s puzzled and makes him aware but doesn’t get much of an answer except that he’s texting her an address and that he’ll be waiting outside. She assumes that it’s an address to his place but honestly she has no clue where Robin has directed her. She cranks up her car anyway, and clicks on the address in iMessage for her maps to pick it up and take her to the location.

And it turns out to be just that, she discovers, as she pulls up to an apartment complex where Robin is waiting outside in the ugliest faded denim jeans, which probably need to be returned to the 90s where they came from, a dark heather colored Grateful Dead t-shirt, and a forest green leather jacket. Despite the hideous nature of his attire, he still looks decent and not totally atrocious, so she can’t complain. Although, she tries, rolling down her window to tell him to ‘get back to the DeLorean quick!’ He just chortles his way to the car, saying something about how a return to the 80s sounds incredibly appealing compared to this day and age.

When he’s gotten into her car and started to buckle his seatbelt to safely secure himself, she tells him that she didn’t peg him for a Deadhead.

“I’m full of surprises,” he beams. “So shall we?”

“Where are we going?”

“On adventure but it’s a surprise, just drive. I’ll tell you where to go.”

“What?!”

“Drive, I’ll give directions,” he repeats calmly.

She scoffs, “Oh yeah, so that you can lead me to somewhere to be murdered. I’m not driving anywhere without knowing where it is first.”

He’s crazy. He’s totally lost it because he must think that Regina Mills is the stupidest human being alive. Like she would just drive anywhere, without any notion of where they are headed or what they are doing. That immediately screams bad idea and surely he would know that, yet he is persistent that she drive to wherever this unknown location is.

“Oh, would you just take the branch shoved up your arse out for one night and do something a little reckless?”

“This is not ‘a little reckless,’ this is entirely irresponsible. How do I know you aren’t really planning to murder me?”

“Because you know I’m not a murder.” He looks at her knowingly, and he’s right. She doesn’t believe that Robin has a murderous bone in his body. And she’s certain that anywhere that they’re going is totally innocent but… well, nothing. She doesn’t have an honest excuse why she isn’t putting the car in drive and allowing Robin to guide them to the mystery location. “D’you trust me?”

She does, she knows she does. She’s not exactly sure why she does because he’s a complete stranger to her, but she nevertheless feels trustworthy of him and believes that he’d never hurt her or intend to do her harm. Rather than responding, though, she just pulls out her phone and starts to type, prompting Robin to ask why she’s doing such a thing.

“I’m texting Kathryn, in the case that you are taking me to murder me. I’m telling her if she doesn’t hear from me by tomorrow afternoon, then to call the police.”

“You know telling the murderer that kind of information is counterproductive? Because what would stop me now from going to kill Kathryn, right after I finish you off?”

Unfortunately, he’s right and a wry smile creeps onto her features to let him see. “I really hate you, do you know that?”

“Also, probably not something you should say to a murderer but I’m impressed to see that you are capable of feeling strong emotions. Given, it’s the wrong extreme, but I suppose you have to start somewhere.”

Regina merely rolls her eyes. She nearly said that she only feels that way towards him but thankfully her brain thought farther and considered his sly answer about her only having strong feelings for him, which is certainly false, but inevitably something that Robin would use against her. So she chooses to keep her comment to herself, put her phone down and put the car in drive. “Okay, smart ass, where to?”

“We’re doing this?” he asks incredulously.

“I’m not scared of a challenge.”

He nods in her direction, “A confident woman. I like that,” then returns his gaze back to the road, “Very well then, take a right at the light, and then keep going, I’ll tell you when to turn again.”

She does as she’s told and they end up cruising down the highway to silence. Regina isn’t fond of silence, especially when another person is nearby. That said, of course, she loves peace and quiet every now and again but silence can be deafening and her thoughts can continuously echo off the walls of her skull, trying to break free and end the surrounding silence. But sound can drown them out. She reaches over, then, to the volume knob on the radio and turns it slightly to the right, just enough got some form of a melody can fill the spaces in between. However, that turns out to be a mistake as soon as the lyrics hit her ears.

_No, no drama, no, no, no, no drama_

_So don't pull on my hand boy,_

_You ain't my man, boy,_

_I'm just tryn'a dance boy,_

_And move my hump._

Regina’s eyes go wild as her hand shoots toward the buttons in the middle to change the station, but her hand is caught by Robin’s and her eyes fly up to his, where a light is twinkling in them, and he’s shaking his head. He begins to join in with Fergie on her round of ‘my humps,’ shimmying his shoulders to the beat and grinning like an idiot. He breaks at ‘lovely lady lumps’ to shout over the music for Regina to join him.

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” she negates and shakes her head furiously.

He yells out a, “You know you want to,” just in time to add into the ‘she’s got me spendin’.’

“No, I don’t.” _Spendin’ all your money on me and spendin’ time on me._

He just sings the next ‘she’s got me spendin’’ even louder. “C’mon,” he nearly whines this time during Fergie’s line. “Watcha gonna do with all that junk, all that junk inside that trunk?”

Maybe it’s the thrill of the moment, or the dare in Robin’s eyes but the lyrics finally fall from Regina’s lips with, “I’mma get, get, get, get you drunk, get you love drunk off my hump.”

Robin claps his hands together and halfway cheers her on as she reluctantly sings the lyrics. His smile is contagious, making the corners of her lips tilt further and further up until she is also grinning like a fool and singing along to _My Humps_ at the top of her lungs, with her doing the Fergie stuff and Robin completing it with the remaining Black Eyed Peas’ parts.

She isn’t quite sure what happened, but it all feels like an out of body experience, because she isn’t like this; Regina Mills does not sing trashy songs like _My Humps_ at the top of her lungs nor does she just go out with someone on a whim with no clue where she’s headed. This isn’t her and somewhere deep down she wants it to stop, to shut back down and get Robin out of her head, but the rest of her just wants to relish in the excitement and allow Robin to show her a good time—in the most innocent of ways, of course.

When the song ends, Robin is laughing. “Congrats, I didn’t think you had it in you. Wait, no that’s not true, I knew something that resembles a normal human being was in there somewhere.”

“I only did it so you’d stop doing that thing with your chest,” she retorts.                         

“Oh, was my chest distracting?” He moves it again, brow raised.

She pauses for a moment to whip up a decent excuse because, yes, watching his deltoids bounce up and down was very distracting. “No, the dancing was irritatingly distracting and could have led to an accident had I not put a stop to your shenanigans.”

“Right,” he smirks to himself.

She just grips the steering wheel harder with her left hand until her knuckles start to whiten and uses her right hand to find a new station because now the song has shifted to the ‘made for weddings’ Ed Sheeran song that is played far too much on the radio. She tries to find another variety type station on her satellite radio because Variety is always her favorite (a little bit of the 80s, a splash of the 90s, all the new stuff, and then occasionally fan favorites from any decade) but she stops first on the popular pop stations.

_How dare we sit quietly_

_And watch the world pass us by_

She loves this song but suddenly the lyrics make her feel strange. Attempting to overlook it, she tells Robin how she loves this song and just like that it hits her, like a bullet speeding train right at her. She was dancing—no, grinding—on Robin to the beat of the very song coming out of her speakers.

Her cheeks light up to a bright red as Robin says, “Yes, I’m quite aware over how much you like the song.”

“Oh my god. Was it bad?”

“No, not too bad, at least during this song. The couple beside us loved you, though. Pretty sure at one point during the evening, the guy asked if we were swingers.” Her mouth gapes open. “Don’t worry, I said I wasn’t.” A pause. “Though, I might have suggested that you’d totally be into it.”

“You what?!”

“You agreed.”

Her incredulity only deepens. “I would never.”

“You did, swear.”

Never in a million and one years would she ever agree to something so stupid like the idea of being a swinger. This is ridiculous. Robin Locksley is clearly a bad influence on her life. She thinks to turn around and end this little parade of ‘fun’ because she can just imagine all the terrible things that he would get her into tonight. She should have known that she couldn’t be friends with him, it was practically doomed from the get go. And yet, despite all that, her foot only presses the gas a little harder and gets them closer to their destination and forcing herself not to turn back.

“Calm down, I told them I didn’t want my girlfriend doing that shit while she’s with me.” He finally offers.

“I’m not thanking you for that.”

“No need, my pleasure, honey.”

“Don’t you mean darling?” She shoots back at him and it shuts him up as expected. She beams at her clever thought to the other night Robin when had so thoughtfully called her darling, which had caught her off guard at the time, but now she would use to her advantage.

“Sure, whatever you’d like to be called sugar plum.” He smiles, not letting Regina best him. “Now what else is on this blasted thing?” He presses the 3 to return to the another variety channel. And the sounds of _The Night is Still Young_ have been replaced by Journey’s _Faithfully_ , which Robin gets extremely excited for. He cries out a _yes!_ and turns it up even louder than with _My Humps._

She can’t resist with this one. _Faithfully_ has always been a favorite one of hers, one that she’d even dare to roll down the widows, letting the world into her little bubble for those 4+ minutes, to belt the lyrics as loud as she can, just as she’s doing now with Robin. She’s using her best air microphone with her right hand as Robin faces her from the passenger seat with a mean air guitar.

Somewhere, in the middle of the song, he tells her to turn left at the light and the right at the next light, then it’s a straight-shot. And the sounds of _Faithfully_ and lots of laughter carry them all the way there.

_Two strangers learn to fall in love again._

[:]

“Robin, where the hell are we?” is the first thing they hear when they’ve reached their destination.

“The clay pits,” he tells her as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

She doesn’t move though because she isn’t going anywhere. “Are you kidding me? That’s trespassing!”

There’s a small area of little clay hills at the foot of the mountain around where they live. It’s not unheard of; many kids talk of coming out to it to party or hangout, as well as other things. The properties around it aren’t so kind when it comes to the trespassers. Stories of the cops breaking up parties are usually at its heaviest over the summer and then occasionally litter their way throughout the rest of the year, peaking around holidays. The cops, however, have gotten pretty lenient about it and often times, the kids get tipped off before they show up and can clear out. The town has come to a general understanding but there are a few properties on the pits that are still hard asses about it.

“Which is why I led us to the far end, so that we’re far away from the properties,” he says as he’s getting out the car.

“How do you know about this place, anyway?” She asks after she follows him out of the car.

“I hear things…”

“At the Hole that you frequent?” she retorts.

“The very ‘Hole’ that I remember spotting you at not too long ago, hm?”

Her smile falters, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her arms cross over her chest and her chin tilts into the air.

“Mhm.”

Robin begins walking away from the car, assumingly expecting Regina to follow, but she doesn’t and instead yells after him, “Hey! I’m not dressed to go walking around in clay!”

“I saw sneakers in your backseat!” he hollers back over his shoulder, still walking.

There are tennis shoes in her back seat and that just happened to be a lucky break from him, but his lack of forewarning still pisses her off. She rolls her eyes, groans and grabs the tennis shoes that are in her back seat, chucking her heels back there to replace them. She doesn’t bother to put them on, but runs barefoot after Robin to catch up. “And what about my dress?”

“It’s lovely, why do you ask?” He knows what she means and she lets her irritation bleed through onto her facial features. “Oh relax, it’ll wash out,” he says as she balances on him to put on her new footwear.

“It doesn’t come out that easily.”

“Then I’ll buy you a new dress if it means that much,” he answers nonchalantly.

“What if I like this dress?”

“Regina.”

The way he says her name gives her heart a reason for a little flutter. He knows she’s being annoying just for the sake of it and so does she. She’s not sure why, why she likes pushing his buttons and fighting him on the silliest things but it’s like second nature to her.

“If you use the ‘live a little’ trope one more time, I’m going to kill you.”

“You call me a murderer and yet, here we are with you threatening to kill me twice in one day. Perhaps, we should turn back and I should fear you, hm?”

She chooses that moment to mock him, “Oh where’s your sense of adventure, Locksley. You’re too boring. Do something fun for once.”

“Okay then, challenge accepted. Let’s go.” He tugs on her hand and pulls her down the first slope into the pit.

“Robin, if you throw dirt on me, I swear to god,” she warns as they scurry down the hill.

He chuckles, “No worries m’lady. No dirtball fights for us.”

When they reached the bottom of the slope, Robin speaks first, “So what are you gonna do about your lover boy?” His grip on her hand loosens but doesn’t entirely give up and neither does hers on his.

Her hands are cold after all.

“I have no idea,” she sighs out. She really doesn’t, which is partially why she is in his company, because he’s the only one who can advise her on the matter. She cares for Graham, but she doesn’t know that she’d jump in front of a speeding bullet for him. They just started this stupid little thing, why do they need to jump to love and commitment? And why the hell can’t Graham just understand that she needs space and time? She tells Robin all this, who asks if she’s ever asked that of Graham out loud.

“Not in so many words. But if he knows me well enough to love me, then he should pick up on that,” she answers defensively.

“Ah, you never disappoint.”

“What does that mean?”

“You expect the man to just read your thoughts?”

“I do not. But I shouldn’t have to spell it out for him and I shouldn’t have to tell him that out of obligation. I should be able to say it whenever I want and he should want me too, as well, that way he knows my feelings are genuine. And you are supposed to be on my side,” she huffs.

His grip tightens once more on her hand and he stops walking, turning so he is facing her. “I am and I don’t disagree with you there, but Regina, sometimes you have to give the man a vowel. And look, if you want to end it then you need to say so. If it isn’t going anywhere then you need to be honest. Tell him exactly how you feel and then, together, you can decide what your next step is.”

Again, it’s not like this is not what she should hear, but she is angry with Graham’s expectations. She doesn’t know what she wants Robin to tell her, something resembling anything to the fact that Graham is wrong and she is right, end of discussion.

“I don’t know why I’m even bothering asking your opinion of love when you philander all over the city,” she dismisses.

“I have loved before, you realize.”

“Oh what happened? Did she tragically break your heart causing you to become this great love cynic, who ditches England to fuck every girl in America as revenge?”

“I’m not a love cynic. I totally believe in the concept.” He moves into the position they were in at the carline but is closer, this time, where his lips are brushing her ear. “I just like sex better that’s all.”

His breath tickles her neck and earlobe, nearly making her squirm, “Of course, you do.”

“Can you blame me? It’s a wonderful gift we’ve been given and one I just happened to be spectacular at giving, as well.”

“I think you’re far too confident.”

“With sex?”

“Yes.”

“Is this where you are going to do the Meg Ryan fake orgasm thing because I’m just dying to hear the way you scream when a man isn’t satisfying you, which must be often, what with the stick up your arse,” he counters.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“You think you could be satisfactory?”

“More so.” He lifts his brow and then starts to walk off and waits for Regina to return to his side before adding, “No, but anyway, Marian and I didn’t work out. And I left, not her.”

“What happened?”

“Lots of things. We got on well enough, and I loved her, I did, but truthfully, if I didn’t take a step back then I wouldn’t know if I cared for her simply because I did or if it was because my parents wanted us to.”

She nods in understanding, realizing that Robin means that his relationship was arranged by his parents, presumably to keep the family money in the family. She hadn’t known that Robin was rich, though, not surprising, but she feels her perspective change a little bit. Unfortunately, this is not one of those times where she can avoid relating to Robin. She knows all too well what it feels like to be pressed beneath the thumb of an oppressive parent, who forces their children to do their bidding because they weren’t fulfilled by their own lives.

“So did you just leave?”

“Sort of.” He kicks up a bit of clay as they continue walking. “Marian knew I wanted to visit the states and so I told my parents that I wanted to before I got married. My father said I was foolish and my mother just got cross. And one day, I finally just left. I left a note for Marian at our place, telling her I needed to go and didn’t contact my parents until after I’d gotten to New York.”

“Have you spoken to Marian?”

“No, too much of a bloody coward, to be honest.”

“Well, I’m assuming you decided that you realized that you love her because of your parents?”

“No, actually, quite the opposite.” He shakes his head. “I loved Marian and I still do but in a way that I know I can’t return. I want her to be free and be her own person and find love on her own, not because it was pushed together. She doesn’t need to be some housewife because that’s just how it’s supposed to be. Plus when I found out she had a thing with Keith, I knew we couldn’t stay together.”

“Keith?”

“This total jack ass I went to primary school with but Marian had a thing for him,” he shrugs.

This is a side of Robin Locksley that she had not seen and had not ever expected to see. She grows a massive level of respect for him because while the whole escape plan started selfishly, it had continued chivalrously. “Very valiant of you.”

“Something like that,” he sighs.

“No, really, Robin, it is.”

“Yeah, sounds like she’s happy too. Friend of mine from back home says she moved up north with Keith and their living in a cottage and having the time of their lives. She’s disowned now, but as long as she’s happy.”

“And if she ever ended up unhappy?”

“Then I’d take care of her, but without my parents’ money. I’d take care of her with money that I earned myself.”

Regina is confused. “If you love her that much then why do you insist on being apart?”

“A few reasons. One, we fought like cats and dogs, couldn’t agree on shit and we’d just go back to doing the same thing. Two, I don’t like doing anything my parents want me too, and that may be a bit selfish but whatever. Three, I don’t want her to ever feel like an obligation—had I stayed with her, she’d feel that way and if we got back together now, then she’d feel that way still. And four, because I always want her to be happy.”

She admires him immensely in this moment and she thinks that perhaps she’d misjudged him all this time, that beneath the crass and rough exterior is a man who is kind and caring and an actual gentleman. He sacrificed his own potential happiness just to take care of this Marian woman. Had any man loved her that selflessly, she’d have been whisked off her feet long ago and maybe wouldn’t have grown to be so volatile towards love. Though, she’d come close with Daniel but she let that go of her own volition. But other than that, she’s never experienced a deep level of love like that.

Never, meaning Graham’s profession of love was one of selfishness, demanding to be loved in return, rather than love her unconditionally, doing all things to assure her happiness. And that’s when she knows that things must end with Graham.

Robin had managed to help and didn’t even realize it.

“Well, and I’ll deny it if you tell a soul,” she raises a finger in his face, “I’d say she’s pretty lucky.”

“Thank you, Regina. So, what about you? Who turned you into the love cynic that you are?”

“Yes well, like you, I’ve lost people I care about, more than I’d like to admit,” she frowns.

“Like a Henry? Was he an old lover?”

She stops walking and stares at a light far off into the distance. Henry was not a lover but her father. Regina had loved Daddy, and yes, technically she had lost him but she isn’t going to divulge to Robin any of the details of what happened as far as that loss went. All those memories are safely packed away with the rest of Phoenix and where they will inevitably stay. “No. He was my father and that’s all you need to know,” she says shortly.

“Was?”

“I don’t want to talk about, Robin.”

And once again she shuts down over Phoenix.

“Okay, then who do you want to talk about?”

“Daniel.”

“And what did Daniel do?”

She tells him about how she and Daniel had been high school sweethearts and were really happy and planning to be together for the rest of their lives until she’d gotten pregnant. He stops in his tracks when she says that and turns to look at her in bewilderment. She falters for a second, then proceeds with how it’d happened near the end of their senior year and Daniel promised to stay behind, despite the fact that he’d gotten a free ride to UCLA on a football scholarship. Daniel was of meager means and had no other way to pay for college but he was decidedly staying—until Regina had a miscarriage.

Her story is broken by Robin stepping toward her and grabbing her hand, while breathing out an apology.

“Not your fault. I partied a lot that year; I didn’t know I was pregnant.”

“Is that what did it?”

“I don’t know and I didn’t care to find out.”

She goes on to talk about how Daniel, then still insisted on staying to take care of Regina but they’d just fight a lot and he’d resent her when he could have become a big football star at UCLA. Regina chose to make her own move of valiance by forcing Daniel to leave her behind and go to UCLA. He was an amazingly sweet (and very stubborn) guy, who fought with her every step of the way, even after sending in his acceptance of funds and housing papers. And even on the way there to UCLA, he’d asked if she was sure.

A few months later, Regina was home bussing tables at a café in her hometown (to the immense disdain of her mother) while Daniel became a hot shot. Phone calls dwindled from daily to weekly to every now and again to ‘I just can’t I’m busy,’ especially after she got accepted for the spring semester at Arizona State. She was proud of him and was glad that he’d found a life there. She wanted nothing more for Daniel, which is exactly in the middle of the spring semester, she drove up to where Daniel was and ended things. And they’d agreed mutually that it was for the best, then went their separate ways, no culpability, no resentment, just the end to a chapter.

“D’you miss him?”

Regina focuses her gaze on their interlocked fingers. “Of course I do, but only sometimes. We stayed in touch for a long time until that too faded into nothingness. But I’m not bitter over it. It was a long time ago and it just opened the door for whatever the hell I’m still waiting for.”

He’s quiet for a moment before mumbling, “I’m really sorry about your miscarriage. I can’t imagine.”

“It’s funny, because I didn’t want to be a mom at the time and then as soon as I got the reprieve, I regretted it,” she sniffles, not because she was crying but that’s what Robin takes it as and is suddenly embracing her, enveloping her in a blanket of warmth and rubbing her back. Suddenly, she does feel like crying, allowing Robin to see her vulnerability, which she isn’t going to do, but she realizes she at least isn’t afraid to.

“Well, we all get a second chance. Yours will come someday,” he murmurs into her hair and she feels so comfortable, in that moment, that she links her arms around him a bit tighter and dares to rest her head on his chest.

A brief moment passes before he releases her and she shivers from the sudden lack of warmth.

“You cold?”

“Cold natured and it’s pretty windy tonight. Again, not really dressed for the occasion.”

“Here.” He starts to wriggle out of his jacket and swings his arms behind her to drape his jacket over her shoulders.

“What are we going steady?” She jests, pulling the jacket closer around her.

He laughs, “Suppose so, should we seal it with a kiss?”

“Yeah, in your dreams,” she replies sarcastically with an eye roll.

He hasn’t moved and is so close, she can feel the breath coming out of his nostrils. “Mhm,” he hums, inching even closer.

He’s right there.

She could kiss him, just this once. Move just a little bit closer and press her lips to his. She’s curious, just needs to satiate her inquiry, just once. Sure, before this moment, she’d considered kissing him but now was different—now, she’d seen a different side to Robin Locksley that makes him very kissable now, someone worth kissing.

_Do something daring, Regina._

He must be on the same level as her because his voice has dropped to a low, grumbling whisper. “I could kiss you right now.”

He could and she wouldn’t do a damn thing .“Not stopping you.”

“I see that.” He leans even closer until their lips are practically brushing against one another.

But what if she likes it? What if she wants to kiss him more than once? And it would effectively ruin their working relationship. And they sure as hell couldn’t be friends. This is a bad choice and as adventurous as it is, it would have terrible consequences.

“But… I do have a boyfriend,” she mutters against him.

“Ah, yes, true.”

“And you’re technically engaged…”

“Yes, although I’m fairly certain I effectively ruined that one.”

She laughs onto his lips. “You’d never be able to stay away.”

“Mmmm, yes but I’ve always been one to break the rules.”

A beat.

“I’m out of excuses.” And her stomach is fluttering like crazy.

“I’ve got one.” His warm breath is such a tease on her lips.

“Oh?”

“We should probably get back to the car.”

Damn. He’s right, too. And this shouldn’t be happening. She needed an excuse to get out of this moment and now she’s gotten it. She should concede but she doesn’t want to. Lingering for just a moment longer, she takes him in for a breath and then finally builds up the courage to pull away.

“Shall we m’lady?” He extends his elbow for her to take, and then together, they walk back to the car, leaving their almost kiss to get swept up by the wind.

[:]

The drive back is quiet, to the point where Regina almost thought Robin had gone to sleep. But eventually he’d pulled out his phone to quickly look at something. “Thanks for going on this adventure with me.”

“Thank you, for inviting me.”

“I misjudged you, Regina, you are a good bit of fun and are definitely one for a challenge. I’m impressed,” he discerns.

“And I misjudged you, you are not a total cad.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Robin, you understand that you cannot share anything that happened in that clay pit,” she chides.

“I know.”

“And that last part—”

“—was rather interesting. I definitely thought you would cave but I guess you have more will power than I thought.”

“I have plenty of will power.”

“That you do. Alas, maybe next time.”

She grimaces in his direction, “There will not be a ‘next time.’”

“Mhm. We shall see.”

They’re once again encircled in silence and they stay like that until they reach Robin’s complex. It looks pretty sketchy at night; however, she shouldn’t pass any judgment because the same could be said about her own establishment.

“So, this is your place?”

“Indeed, did you want to come in for a night cap?”

She considers it, just briefly and then respectfully declines. She knows that she shouldn’t because it will only lead to the two of them getting into trouble and she thinks that he understands the same because he immediately concurs with her, beginning to unbuckle.

But he turns to face her one last time, “Seriously, thank you for this evening, Regina. I didn’t know how badly I needed one. And I rather enjoyed getting to see this side of you.” Then he lifts the hand hovering on the gearshift, raising it until it meets his soft, warm lips. He presses them to it for a breath and then climbs out of her car, closing the door behind him, waving and walking back to the building.

She hadn’t realized how cold her hands were until that moment.

Shit.

His jacket.

She flings open her door, calling out to him and racing to the sidewalk. As she reaches him near the door, she dances her way out of the jacket and extends it to him. _Do something daring, Regina._ And she does just that; as he grabs the jacket, she takes that opportunity to lean forward, heading straight for his lips, ready to feel them on her own and not just the back of her hand. But at the last second, she hesitates, dodging just a little to plant them on his cheek.

“Me, too,” she finally says. “Until our next adventure.”


	8. Chapter Eight Part One

He is a fucking disaster. Although, he has no bloody idea what’s got his knickers in such a twist that he can’t think straight, it’s written all over his face once he returns back to work on Monday. He can’t seem to focus on anything, much less properly function. Mrs. Lucas had to say hello four times before Robin ever answered her and poor Nicholas Zimmer had to stand there and just wait at Robin’s desk because he wasn’t paying attention to the poor lad.

And Robin hadn’t managed to really grasp his day until little Roland Cassidy plops down beside him on the bench during recess.

“Mr. Losslee?” Roland (who is unable to pronounce his hard K sounds yet) uses Robin’s newly dubbed name timidly, not wanting to rip Robin away from his thoughts and make him angry.

He makes a mental note, despite his distraction that he needs to call up the boy’s foster mother and insist on him taking a speech class. Then again, he’s been telling himself that since he met Roland and still hasn’t done it.

_You’re doing great Robin, you sodding idiot._

Robin only gives him an absentminded hum, carefully scrutinizing the road and barely paying any mind to the little boy beside him.

“Are you okay?”

It feels as if Robin has been submerged under water all day, hearing muffled sounds of this and that but never receiving anything clearly, until this very moment where he seemingly emerges and can hear again. Roland is perceptive, Robin had picked that up from the moment he’d met him. He always seems to know when something is awry. That might be attributed to his scenario, though, which puts a slight damper on the pride Robin feels for him.

Robin smiles down kindly at Roland, meeting his brown disks, which are buried beneath his tiny brows that he has scrunched together in confusion and concern. “I’m okay, Roland. Why do you ask?”

“You seem sad.”

“Do I? Well, I’m not sad,” he reassures, “But thank you for asking.” He taps the tip of the young boy’s nose and beams down at him like he’d just given Robin the most thoughtful of gifts.

But Robin’s merriment is short lived when Roland dips his head low and peers into his lap, suddenly sniffling and sucking up any mirth left in Robin’s features. Roland’s voice is quieter than ever before, stating, “I’m sad.”

Robin can feel his heart plummet down into the pit of his stomach and his brows knit so perfectly together as he asks, “Why’s that?”

“I made my daddy mad,” Roland says trying to fight his bottom lip from poking out and the tears welling in his eyes.

“Your foster father?” Roland nods tearfully before Robin adds, “Why’d he get angry with you?

“I ‘spillded’ my cheerios all over the floor but I didn’t mean to. I tried to say I was sorry. It was an ‘assadent’ but he was so mad.”

Robin can feel his heart tug at that, as a not so kind reminder of his own father doing something similar seeps into his brain. Robin clearly remembers that one vein in his dad’s neck that used to threaten to pop right out of his anger-stained skin, when he was furious with Robin for whatever it was that he’d done. Robin would always focus on that vein to get through the tirades, until his father recovered and acted as though nothing had just come to pass.

Marian had never understood why Robin just sat there and endured his father’s wrath. It was a pride thing more than anything else, Robin couldn’t bear the thought of letting his father think that he had one over on his son, that he’d won or conquered. So, Robin let him spit fire in his face, while he just stood there and took it.

It’d be over nearly as quickly as it started anyway.

“Roland, I’m sure your foster father has completely forgotten about it and he’s not mad at you anymore,” Robin soothes.

Roland starts to full-on sob then, “But Henry said that if I make this mommy and daddy mad they’ll take me away forever. And I’ll never get to see Henry ever again and it will be all my fault and he will never _ever_ forgive me.”

“He said that to you?”

Roland only nods, his sobs drowning out any semblance of a word or phrase, while Robin is trying to swallow the sudden swell of rage he’s gained for the elder brother. How could he say something so awful to his little brother, who is so innocent and ignorant of bad things? A defenseless five year old has the weight of the world thrown onto his shoulders and he’s done nothing but try to be a good kid.

Robin sighs, heavily trying to gather a way to comfort the child. “Well, Roland…” he begins. “Henry is just really scared and he loves you very much and doesn’t want to lose you. He didn’t mean what he said. He’s just angry… but not at you. Nor does he blame you for what’s happened to you both.”

“So Henry isn’t mad at me?”

“No,” Robin patronizes, “not at all.”

“But what if I do make mommy and daddy mad and they do send me away?”

“Roland,” Robin scolds atop his question.

The little boy’s tears take pause at the way Robin speaks his name, but they well up in his eyes and a few make their escape as he blinks up at Robin.

“I promise that as long as I’m alive that I will be sure that nothing happens to you or your brother. No one will take you away if I have anything to say about it. And no one,” Robin’s voice dips low as if telling a secret, “is going to tear you two apart.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, lets shake on it,” Robin says as he extends his little finger out. He hooks his pinky with his tiny counterpart, then places a tender kiss on his forehead. “I promise.”

And it’s a promise Robin Locksley intends to keep because he can’t bear looking at Roland and seeing him as hurt as he is in this moment. He doesn’t deserve this, and though they’ve only known each other for a short period of time, Robin wants nothing more in this world than to protect the child next to him, which is his every intention, come hell or high water.

No one under his watch will ever feel like he once did.

[:]

Robin doesn’t know what to do next and, unfortunately, it seems that the coffee pot he’s now clutching in his hands isn’t going to relent any answers either. He’s not sure if he should go bring it up to the guidance counselor quite yet, it might be just a quiet matter, but perhaps it would be good for the boys to talk to someone about how they’re feeling. Then again, maybe he can just confront it himself with the boys alone. Although, that might entail involving Regina, which he’d rather avoid. He could also just mention it in passing to the boys’ new foster mother when he meets with her, though he feels that that’s a failed plan in the making. She’s not really the caring sort, he’s gathered. He practically had to beg the woman to come meet him to discuss Roland’s need for a speech class. Thankfully, she’d conceded but not before a long-winded avoidance of committing to come meet with Robin.

He’s got all that piled on his mind among other things and he’s already prepared to rip his hair out of his skull. Just another manic Monday, right?

“You look like you could use a drink,” he hears behind him.

He turns to find his favorite new acquaintance leaning against the doorframe. Magnolia, or Maggie-slash-Mags, as he’s been informed to call her, smirks at him as he gives a sly answer about how she was certainly correct and had it not been a Monday afternoon, his mug would be full of whiskey rather than Folgers.

“You don’t drink on the weekdays?” she inquires.

“Maybe a drink or two, nothing extravagant though.”

“Well, lets go get a drink then, on me.”

Robin thinks he’d like getting a drink with Maggie, just hanging out platonically and talking about random shit that means nothing really in the grand scheme, but he rejects the offer, admitting that though he’d like a good solid drink at the moment, he’s not feeling the bar scene and he’s got enough work to do that he’ll already be behind anyway; best to not delay further. He does offer a rain check though, which she accepts, in turn, and then takes the coffee pot from his death grip to pour herself some coffee into her own mug.

“So, what’s giving you the Monday blues?”

Robin releases all the pent up weight in his chest as he exhales, “Oh, where do I begin?”

“Oh god, there’s more than one thing?” she half laughs. “You sure you don’t want to accept the drink offer?”

“Oh trust me,” he chuckles darkly, “I do, but I think it might be counterproductive in the long run.”

She nods and leans against the counter, “So what’s up?”

“You know Roland Cassidy, adorable little boy in my class with the really curly black hair?”

“Yes, very quiet in PE, but yes.”

“Well, I’m just worried about him and his brother and I’m not really all that sure what to do about it.”

“Have you talked to their parents or are they the problem?”

“No. I don’t really know. It’s mostly his brother, Henry, he just says things he’s not supposed to and, I mean, I’m not really sure if it’s my place to intervene or if I should just leave it be.”

“Have you talked to Henry’s teacher?”

His mouth twists pensively to one side. “I dunno if I want to involve her just yet.”

“You scared of her?”

“No,” he answers flatly.

 “Then what?”

“I dunno, just don’t wanna bother her quite yet,” he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

Truthfully, he’s afraid that Regina will tell him he’s overreacting and that he’s judging Henry based off the perception of a five year old, but he can’t just sit by and ignore the potential feud between these brothers. They’re all the other has and neither should take the other for granted—they have to understand that. Robin would’ve given anything to have had someone to be there with him during his childhood. Marian had come along the way somewhere in the middle there but there was a long spell where he was all alone.

That had been made apparent during the one and only time he’d attempted to run away from home. He was a young thing—seven, eight maybe—and he’d done what anyone his age would do, he shoved a jar of peanut butter into a knapsack, because it was the easiest thing to grab and tote, as well as, a few little trifles to keep him company on his journey. It’d been raining that day, pouring even, which isn’t uncommon where he’s from nor something he minds. He’s, actually, always been a fan of rain and thunderstorms, something about them is exciting and calming all wrapped into one; what could be better?

Ironically enough, he’d chosen to move to the desert but he’d figured that it’s better that he has as few reminders of home as possible, and the desert would only make the rain that much more enjoyable.

But the day he ran away, in particular, it’d been raining rather hard and Robin knew he wouldn’t last long out on the streets. He was right, too, it only rained harder as he ambled through the different streets, perhaps a sign from the universe, but Robin Locksley was persistent and persevered through. That is, until it was raining so hard that he couldn’t see in front of him and he heard little roars of thunder. It’d been then, that his impetuous, and yet, usually perceptive, juvenile brain had decided that he’d just camp out at someone else’s house, only to realize that that might be a little difficult given that his friends were few and far between, save Cyrus and Alice.

Cyrus and Alice were in a similar situation as Robin and Marian, except their parents wanted to keep them apart and for Alice to be promised to someone else. Cyrus wasn’t exactly the richest of sorts, but that didn’t stop the two of them. Even as kids, everyone knew that they were meant to be, but their parents continued to keep them apart until they _actually_ ran away from home.

Robin’s escapade, on the other hand, ended about as soon as it’d started. Robin had chosen to go to Cy’s house for shelter but it didn’t take long before Cyrus told his mom that Robin was hiding out in his room—traitor. Cy swore as they grew up that he did it with good intentions because Robin shouldn’t have run away but Robin didn’t forgive so easily. In fact, if he remembers correctly, he didn’t speak to Cyrus for nearly an entire school year.

Perhaps, he made himself alone…

Perhaps, he still does.

“Mhm,” Maggie crosses her arms over her chest and nods knowingly—the mischievous glint in her eye taunting him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she sneers and darts her eyes to the floor.

Robin doesn’t follow but he doesn’t want to get near any other reason he may be avoiding Regina. “What about your search for _The One_ , huh?” he dodges.

Maggie just shakes her head, though, “Oh no, no don’t change the subject.”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“No, the one avoiding is you,” she reprimands. “I have nothing to tell. Did you piss her off?”

He is avoiding, frankly, because he doesn’t want deal with the possible repercussions of what may or may not have almost happened the other night—at least not today, he can’t handle it today. 

“No, I just don’t think she likes me very much. And I just don’t want to bug her with something that I can probably handle.”

 “So, what are you going to do? Just stand around until the universe solves it?” she teases.

Robin feigns gullibility, “You think that’ll work?”

Maggie scoffs and rolls her eyes as she paces back to the door to leave Robin to his own devices. She doesn’t depart entirely, though, without adding over her shoulder, “Go talk to Regina, she doesn’t bite… “

“I’m not scared of her!” he calls after her, followed by the sound of a snicker slithering down the waxy tiles.

[:]

Well, he thought he didn’t really fear Regina Mills until he nearly runs into her and splatters lukewarm coffee between the two of them as he rounds the corner back to the office.

“What? It’s not enough to take me out to dirty clay pits to freeze me to death, now you have throw hot coffee on me, too?” she jests as he falters backward just slightly to avoid the collision.

“At least then you’d be warm, right? Or do you like to keeping your whole body as frigid as your soul?”

“I try to keep it as cold as your bed is at night,” she counters flippantly.

He raises a brow— a fairly comeback. “I rather think I keep my bed quite warm, if you ask me, well, and the women who’ve seen it.”

Regina answers with a scoff, muttering, “Such a problem,” beneath her breath.

Robin’s not even sure why he feels the need to flaunt it, and truthfully, the more he gets to know her, the more uncomfortable he gets telling her. Well, and it’s best not to push that any further. Instead, he chooses to deflect, a common occurrence on his part today, it seems.

“I was actually coming to look for you,” he tells her.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about Henry and Roland, not a big deal, if you’re busy or something.”

“Actually, that’s who I’m dealing with right now.” The sigh that she emits voices all the rest of her frustrations, but it seems it’s not really directed at the boys.

“What happened?”

“Well, their foster mother isn’t answering the phone and you know that they're closing the building at five today, so I have no idea what to do. Ashley’s been trying to get her on the phone constantly because we can’t just dump them on the sidewalk to wait.”

He has a strong urge to soothe her, to reach out and tell her to take a deep breath—that everything will be fine, but he doesn’t, knowing that that would be inappropriate, especially given where they left off last. Although, he’s fairly certain he did something of the like in their previous circumstance and she hadn’t fended him off, so it wouldn’t be completely bizarre, but Robin, though it hasn’t been long, has started to figure out who Regina is, and he knows from what he’s gathered that what happened in those clay pits is meant to stay there. She’d been enthralled with the moment but now that gravity had gently tugged her back to plant her feet firmly on the ground, she’d realized that she’d made a mistake; she isn’t an affectionate person and certainly doesn’t plan on being that way with Robin, and least of all with him (or really anyone) in public.

He has to stop trying to be her friend.

“Need some help?” he offers despite his revelation. So much for that.

She dismisses it with a hand, “Oh, it’s okay. I can take care of it, if you’re busy.”

“Oh please, Roland’s my student after all, it’s the least I could do.” He shrugs. It’s trivial, really, because he’d give anything to help—the boys—yeah, he wants to help the boys because they need someone and that’s why he’s offering, because he wants to help Henry and Roland.

She lets out a slight sigh of relief, music to Robin’s ears to say the least. “Okay, fine, I’m running down to my classroom to get them some juice and some puzzles to pass the time. Although, we have to be out of the building by five today so…” she trails off, leaving the rest of her sentence unfinished. The school board had implemented an energy saving program to help with funding in the school, meaning every Monday and Friday the building closed at five, no exceptions. So, that meant that they had to be out of the building by five no matter what. “You mind going to sit with them?”

“You don’t need any help getting anything from your room?”

She glowers at him. “What because I’m a woman I can’t carry all those things on my own?”

He shrugs in turn. “You said it, not me, remember that.” His boyish smirk creeps up on his visage—Regina’s blood pressure, more than likely, rising with it’s prevalence. He doesn’t mean it but he’s fond of watching her ire

“Ugh,” she scoffs. “You are impossibl—”

“—y handsome,” he finishes, “Yes I know.”

“Of course, you do,” she scolds, crossing her arms tightly against her chest.

“You’re not denying it?”

“Well, of course not. I wholeheartedly believe that you think you are attractive.”

“I am a man who can tell no lie,” he answers haughtily as he tips his nose far into the air.

She doesn’t skip a beat. “To you it may be no lie.”

His quip doesn’t come soon enough so he settles for directions on what she needs him to do for her, which ends up being to return to the office and tend to the boys along with her solemn promise that she would promptly return with things to occupy them while they await Zelena West’s phone call. It’s peculiar for her to have forgotten, given that he’d just spoken to her not but a few hours prior. But he doesn’t linger on it and joins the boys in the office.

They’re sitting side-by-side in the chairs facing the front counter, with no one in sight besides themselves. Henry is sitting with his legs tucked under his bum, carefully scrutinizing the clock, as if he could map out the exact time that Zelena would come rushing in through the door to sweep the boys home. But there’s something else that lingers in his eyes, a nervousness, one that describes the unnerving feeling of being left behind. It’s practically written all over his face— _what if she left us; what if this is her way of getting rid of us…_

He’s not a child psychologist or anything but that much about Henry’s facial expressions is clear.  And he knows that’s why he’s treated Roland in such a way, because he’s terrified that this is temporary and that one wrong move will send them packing. Robin ventures to wonder if the elder brother has convinced himself that the Cheerio incident has caused this and that they are to be given back.

But it doesn’t seem that Henry has been tough on his brother while they were alone. Roland’s little eyes are darting around the room from various points in the room, while keeping a steady rhythm going with the collision of the backs of his legs to the edge of the chair that he’s sitting in. They’re both quiet but there seems to be no looming animosity between them. Though, the air is a bit funny, he attributes that to the anxiety over their foster parents’ whereabouts.

Robin finally finds his way in front of them, squatting down to equalize their positions. “You boys haven’t managed much mischief in my absence, have you?”

“Mr. Losslee!” Roland squeals and falls forward, linking his arms around Robin’s neck and hurling himself into an unexpected hug.

“Hey there, little man.” Robin smiles softly.

When Robin’s gaze lands on Henry, he eventually elicits words from him, “Hi.” It was simple but a start that Robin was willing to use.

“Hi, how are you Henry?”

“Fine.” His answer is short and leaves little wiggle room.

“Any luck with your foster mum?””

“I think she forgotted,” Roland replies first.

Henry gives a dubious scoff and Robin glances up to look him squarely in the eye before answering with, “Surely. I’m certain it’s a simple mistake.”

Robin doesn’t buy into Henry’s fear but that doesn’t stop him from having a fears of his own. His mind went straight to a tragedy where Zelena is either dead or unconscious and that’s why she can’t answer her phone. Perhaps a car accident? Or a freak accident? But he knows that he has to be strong for them, convincing them that everything is okay.

He understands what Henry is feeling, but honestly, he hasn’t the damnedest clue how to soothe his troubles. He could be straightforward and also confront the consequences of his conversation with Roland this morning. Then again, he really wants to get a second opinion and he needn’t upset the boys any further for no reason. There’s no telling how Henry will respond.

Robin doesn’t get the chance anyway before he hears breathless scurrying behind him. And it isn’t long before a voice pants out, “Oh good, Mr. Locksley, you’re here.”

He turns to find a flushed Ashley with a stack of paperwork in her hand, as well as, the worry lines of a sixty year old. He paces over to the front counter because he can tell by her knit brows and heavy frown that something is amiss.

She leans in close and whispers low so that the boys can’t hear, which is rubbish, because that means he has to be the one to come up with a decent lie to calm the boys down. Ashley tells him that Zelena had forgotten that her husband, Walsh, had to work today and swore that she’d made sure of that because she’d planned a spa day for herself in Santa Fe for the day. That is code for she just lost track of the time in his opinion, but what does he know?

“She says she’ll leave in approximately 30 to 45 minutes,” Ashley finishes.

Robin’s eyes grow wide, “What?! No, she needs to leave now!”

“She said she can’t.” her shoulders rise and fall defeated.

“Well, I don’t bloody well care, now do I? Her arse needs to find its way either in her car headed back here now or on the next Rail Runner headed this way.”

“That’s part of the problem. The next Rail Runner isn’t coming for nearly another hour.”

Robin pinches the bridge of his nose “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

“She can’t find a shuttle bus from the town square in Santa Fe?” he tries.

“Not one that will take her this far.”

His groan that follows is much louder and angrier than intended but it voices his frustrations perfectly. He rakes his hand roughly through his hair, sighing out his irritation. “So what am I to do when the school closes in thirty minutes?”

The corners of Ashley’s lips downturn in a different fashion this time and into a puzzled look, trying to decipher what they’re going to do with their two unaccompanied minors. Somehow, they both come to the conclusion that they should just wait on Regina to make the decision because she is far likely to be a better decision maker than the two of them.

When Regina returns, she is balancing a multicolored board game box, as well as what looks like two boxes of puzzles and a couple of books stacked atop it all. Robin rushes over to open the door for her as she stumbles with a little less grace than he imagines she’d like to have. She plops the various outlets of fun on the empty chair next to Roland before allowing herself to be whisked off to the side with Robin and Ashley, who fill her in on what happened.

If Regina’s groan is any indication of how her day has gone, it sends Robin’s brain into a frenzy of how to help in this situation but he hasn’t the slightest clue as to a solution to the problem.

“Are we gonna have to call CPS?” Ashley’s voice is almost inaudible.

Surprisingly, both Regina and Robin chime in with a resounding _no_. Robin doesn’t hesitate looking over incredulously at his educational counterpart. There’s a distant fear in her eyes, one that has yet to be tamed by the stony demeanor that she has learned to overpower all her other emotions. Perhaps, Henry has let on more with Regina than he thought.

He lifts his brow, asking what they’re to do then and she holds his gaze for a second before turning back to Ashley with a sigh. “Can you get Mrs. West back on the phone?”

Ashley nods dutifully and bustles over to the phone on her desk, while Regina turns to Robin once more. Her eyes are pleading, desperate—something he gathers is not a regularity for her, so he lets down his guard, prepared to say yes to whatever it is that she asks of him. Honestly, how could he say no to those eyes anyway?

“How much are you willing to extend that offer of assistance?”

“As far as you need,” he answers without a second thought.

“I have Mrs. West on the phone,” Ashley calls out, leaving Robin to wait for Regina’s request. But he follows her over to the phone where she picks up and gives a terse greeting to the other woman.

Robin can vaguely hear the sounds of the other woman trying to play off her flakiness, not in an overtly concerned way like a mother should be, but rather like the way he’d heard her speak earlier that day. It still baffles him how he could’ve spoken to her just a few hours prior and she still managed to forget.

Regina snaps a few times at the woman and is continuously short with her until she finishes by telling her that she is taking the boys home with her until she can return and follows with her address and apartment number to locate them once she has.

She slams the phone down and immediately reaches for her temples, massaging them in circle, slowly and deliberately. Robin gets another strong urge and this one is to come up behind her and give her shoulders a good rub, begging for her to relax and trust that everything will come together.

What is happening to him?

Regina doesn’t even bother formally asking Robin to join them but she made it pretty clear that’s what she wanted before Zelena West returned their phone call. Instead, she stalks back over to the boys and tells them to gather their things, as well as, asking if they will help her carry some of their things to the car. Then, she instructs them that she and Robin will promptly return after they make sure everything is squared away in their respective classrooms and to stay with Ms. Boyd for a few minutes longer.

And within those few minutes, Robin and Regina had locked up their classrooms, double checking that they’ve finished all the necessities for their lessons tomorrow and came back for the boys to take them back to Regina’s place.

[:]

Regina picks a spot in her apartment’s lot with another vacant spot for Robin to park in. The whole thing feels natural and it’s weird for him the familiar feeling that’s creeping up on him—like what they’re doing in this moment feels… right.

But that feeling isn’t right. He knows that much is true.

She looks exhausted when she gets out of the car and files down the driver’s side to help Roland out of his seat, while Henry easily slides out on his own on the other side of the car. Robin does the same and scurries over to help the best he can, although, to no avail seeing that they’ve already made it to the sidewalk by the time he’s made it’s way over.

“Can you carry the games and stuff?” she asks Robin wearily. And he feels bad, nearly offering to let him take the boys for ice cream and let her go rest.

Instead, he just nods and does as he’s told, collecting the various forms of fun that she’d retrieved from her classroom.

“Can I help?” Roland requests excitedly, which volleys Robin’s gaze between him and Regina. When Regina consents, Roland toddles over to Robin’s side and extends his arms outward for one of the boxes to be placed across them. Robin chooses the multicoloured one that is titled _Trouble_ and places it in Roland’s arms, who then races of like a jet with it, Henry running after him and yelling for him to be careful, which Roland took as a cue to mean it was time for a game of tag.

“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Robin murmurs to her as they trail the boys side by side.

“Scared, Locksley?” she teases.

“No,” he replies. “I mean, it’s just they have a lot of energy and you seem like the type to have a lot of ugly breakable vases that their grandparents gave them and probably aren’t that expensive but they act like is a prized possession anyway.”

She purses her lips, mulling over her response. She settles on, “First of all, that’s rude. Second, don’t stereotype me, thief. And lastly, even if that were true, it’s the sentiment that counts, not the vase itself. But I am fine with them coming in there because, at least, then, I can keep a good eye on them.”

“Okay, princess,” he smirks, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Regina only scoffs.  She doesn’t even call him out for the title despite the fact that they’d agreed that he’d stop calling her that. That’s not to say that he doesn’t like calling her by her own name, it’s just a way to poke fun, and he likes it that way.

Her apartment is different than what he remembers—amazing how alcohol can damage a person’s perception down to the very memory of something. It’s not wholly different but there are little things like the fact that there is actually a television in her living room and he doesn’t recollect seeing one. Then again, he hadn’t really made it a point to look the last time. But there’s also the walls, which are now a soft gray hue, except he swears they were white the last time. And lastly the curtains, which were a sleek black in his memory, but before him now, consists of black and white patterned box-pleat curtains accenting a sheer white eyelet curtain underneath.

He likes her place. It’s very modern and chic, a trait he’s not surprised belongs to a place of Regina Mills. It’s also spacious, which is all too precious when it comes to apartments. Giving room for the nice, large black leather sectional and glass coffee table taking up the center of the room, and which are facing the television mounted on the wall. But the most stunning part of the whole place is what the sofa has its back to—an exquisite fireplace, framed by beautiful white molding and preceded by a marble hearth that’s black as night. But the focal point of it, and what has Robin’s undivided attention, is the miniature horse statue, placed at the top of the mantle.

He’s reminded of when he first found out that he and Regina are now coworkers and she told him of her father and her prized steed, Rocinante. Though, he’d rather not admit that he’s remembered such trivial details about Regina, that statue is what prompts him to speak first, “Is that supposed to be your horse?”

Regina is still ushering the boys to sit on the couch, when she looks over at Robin admiring the statue. She tenses, drawing her mouth into a fine line—it’s a sore subject, now that was a detail he’d forgotten.

“Yes,” she answers carelessly, “I had it modeled after Rocinante.”

“It’s lovely.”

Just like that, her features soften and he daresay an incredibly subtle smile touches her lips. “Thank you. Now, come sit on the couch.”

“I like horseys!” Roland pipes up.

“It’s horses, sweetheart,” Regina corrects, as she crouches low at Roland’s feet. “But I’m very glad you like them. Maybe one day we can go look at some, hm?”

“Really?!”

It’s an unfounded promise, Robin knows that; she can’t make a deal like taking him to see horses—one, because what they’re doing now is technically against the rules (teachers aren’t meant to interact with the children in such a way as this), and two because he (and Regina, he’s sure) don’t think that Zelena West is going to be particularly keen on them encroaching on her parenting. But Regina makes the promise anyway because that is the best solution to the whole fucked up situation.

“Henry can come, too, right?”

“Of course, dear,” Regina’s smile is strained but she does her best to keep her composure as she agrees. “Now, do you boys like peanut butter and jelly?”

“Yes!” Roland exclaims, followed by Henry’s solemn ‘sure.’

Henry’s been really quiet this whole time, and though Robin doesn’t know much about him, he can tell that the fact that Zelena isn’t there already is worrying him to death. Robin knows the feeling, fretting over whether mummy and daddy are going to pay you any mind that day and so he decides to take it upon himself to see if he can soothe the boy’s worries.

“Can we has some juice?!” Roland asks excitedly.

“You should drink milk, Roland, it’ll help you grow big and strong.” He walks up to the back of the couch to tousle Roland’s curls from behind. “Hey, why don’t you go help Reg- I mean, Ms. Mills in the kitchen for a bit?” He takes his gaze down to Regina, tipping his head to Henry so that she can follow that he wants a moment alone with the boy.

She nods and extends her hand out to Roland, who takes it, hopping off the couch and skipping off to the kitchen with Regina.

Robin, however, takes that moment to swoop in and take Roland’s place, plopping next to Henry and reaching for the box labeled _Trouble_. “You ever played this before?”

Henry nods, “Yeah, we used to play all the time two foster homes ago. Well, when the big kids were being nice, anyway.”

“Well, I’ve never played, so you wanna help me set it up?”

He takes the box from Robin’s hands and empties its contents on the coffee table, “You’ve really never played?”

Robin takes a deep breath, because no, he’s never played, though they do have a game like _Trouble_ where he’s from, called _Frustration_ , his parents weren’t much of the board game playing type. “Yes, well where I’m from, it wasn’t that popular,” he lies. In fact, it was growing increasingly in popularity as he was growing up. But, unfortunately, not only did his parents refuse to buy ‘ _such a fickle waste of time,_ ’ Robin Locksley didn’t have a soul to play with.

He once tried to get Cyrus and Alice to play with him but for some reason, one now a blur in his memory, they decided not to. And thus, Robin grew up never knowing how to play _Frustration_.

But he doesn’t care to linger any longer on the subject, so he makes a crucial, yet subtle slip in a new direction, “Did you like that foster home?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, mindlessly putting the pegs in their respective holes. “Ms. Fisher was always nice to us, especially when the big kids were being mean. She actually liked us.”

“You think the Wests don’t like you?” Robin infers. He can feel the prickling on the crown of his scalp, the dread that comes with Henry’s next words.

“Of course they don’t.”

Robin’s brows instantly fuse together in confusion, “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because nobody will ever love us, that’s what they said.”

“The Wests said that to you?”

Henry shakes his head emphatically. “No, the big kids at our last house. They said that we’re bad and that nobody can love a bad kid.”

“Henry you aren’t bad,” Robin scolds. “You know that as well as I do.”

“No you don’t. If I’m not, then how come nobody’s ever wanted to adopt us?”

His heart shatters. Honestly, he hasn’t the slightest clue what to say, either. If only he knew why parents are so shitty sometimes and why kids get dealt a sodding hand for no other reason than that the world is just a cruel and terrible place. What Robin would’ve given not to have had the parents that he had or to find parents that will love Henry and Roland as their very own, but it’s all for naught.

“Because you just haven’t found the right fit yet. Somewhere out there, your mum and dad are waiting, you just have to wait until they find you,” he attempts a consolation and he doesn’t know if it has any affect but he can hope.

“What if they never find us?”

“Then, I’ll adopt you.” He didn’t mean to say it but even when he does, it’s meant to be a joke, except as it lingers there on his tongue, a brief thought flits across his mind that he’s actually sincere. That if anything happened to those boys, that he’d protect them no matter what.

And it’s when Henry’s face lights up for the first time since Robin has met him, and he exudes his excitement into the word, “Really?” that Robin knows that he absolutely is serious.

He hasn’t the slightest clue what that means or how he would even go about taking the boys in—and nevermind that he hasn’t the damnedest idea how to parent, but he’s dedicated now, willing to set aside any and all things for these boys, if he has to. He can almost hear Marian singing in his head, _Stop trying to take care of everyone, Robin. You can’t save the world_ , but he dismisses it with an “Absolutely,” in return to Henry, who follows with something unexpected—a hug, squeezing Robin’s limbs tightly to his torso, and sending his heart nearly out of his chest.

“But Henry,” he warns when they break apart, “there’s no need to give up hope that you won’t find a family that loves you. Think about that first. And consider me a back up plan, okay? Can you do that for me?” Once Henry nods, he adds, “And for now, let’s keep it our little secret, okay?”

“Okay,” Henry answers matter-of-factly.

Robin lifts his hand for Henry to shake, much like what he’d done with Roland previously, except in more adult fashion, because it seems that’s how the elder brother views himself. They shake on it, and Robin takes his other hand to pat Henry on the back, a metaphorical pat on the back for Robin, since he prides himself on bringing a little bit of peace, even though it was based off an intentional joke that became and unintentional promise. And it scares him a bit, but, surely, there is a family out there waiting for the boys (even if it isn’t the Wests—although, given today, Robin sincerely hopes not) and they’ll find them soon. But Robin can rise to the challenge, if not, right?

Right?

“Okay,” Regina’s voice breaks the bonding moment, “Henry, Roland said you like strawberry jam. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, thanks, Ms. Mills,” Henry’s tune is entirely changed and Regina picks up on it, eyeing Robin with impressiveness.

When Regina’s eyes finally leave Robin’s and land on the coffee table, she sees the laid out board game, awaiting their play. “Oh, you guys set up _Trouble_.”

“Yeah, did you know Mr. Locksley’s never played before?” Henry informs with a mouth full of sandwich.

“Henry, chew first then speak, sweetie.” Regina chastises, then once again, looks back to Robin, surprised. “You haven’t?”

Robin simply shrugs and sighs. “’Fraid not.”

“Well, I guess it’ll be that much easier to kick your butt,” she teases.

Both of the boys _ooooh_ at her comment, and Robin stifles a grin. “Challenge accepted, princess. Eat up boys, and let me show you what it’s like for Ms. Mills to lose.”

The boys snicker and then scarf down their lunch, probably faster than safe, though Regina does throw in a few warnings for them to slow down. The boys, however, are uninhibited, ready to see this showdown of epic proportions. Henry puts his bet down that Robin would, at least, beat Regina (where he would win, of course), whereas Roland found promise in Regina.

After Robin and Henry grab two chairs out of the dining room, each player chooses their respective colour. Henry is automatically drawn to the blue, his favorite colour, he’s sure everyone notes. Then, when they prompt Roland he muses and then settles on ‘lello,’ which leaves Robin with green and Regina with red. Regina and Henry take up residence on the couch, while Roland and Robin take their table chairs. And the game begins.

Roland ends up being the highest roller with a six, making him first, then Regina, Henry, and lastly, Robin. Truthfully, though, he does his best to mask it, he feels entirely unmatched against three well-versed players of _Trouble_ , but he gets the hang of it, watching the others as they get their first six and move out of home. And for a little while it goes in a steady loop, with everyone rolling less than a six and simply moving his or her single piece closer to its destination.

That is, until Robin is the first to roll a new six. However, an issue strikes him and he doesn’t know what to do—there’s already a peg in his start hole. He looks up to his fellow players in confusion. Regina’s cheeks are now sucked in so tightly that it’s a wonder she hasn’t swallowed them and her eyes and nostrils flared in fear. Henry, on the other hand, is laughing to the point that he’s nearly falling off of the sectional.

“What do I do?”

No one answers, at first. It isn’t until Henry regains his composure that he informs Robin what the situation is. “You have a choice,” he informs. “You can either move the piece you have six spaces, or you can move a new piece out of home. But that means that Ms. Mills’ piece has to go back to home.”

It takes a minute for Robin to gather that that means that Regina will be virtually, and actually quite literally, sent back to square one.

“ _Robin_ ,” she warns with a tone that would usually scare the shit out of anyone, but, oh, it’s music to Robin’s ears, and he has to do everything in his power not to start cackling. She totally disregards Roland calling her out for using Robin’s first name.

“You _will_ regret this,” she tries again; there’s an undertone of laughter hinted in her voice, which only pushes him closer to the home peg.

“I’m telling you don’t want to do this.”

It’s all too tempting, though, and his finger finally rests on the new peg, releasing the exasperated sigh, he’s certain Regina’s been holding onto in anticipation, making it only easier to gloat. He holds fast to her line of sight as he lifts his peg and Regina’s concurrently, placing his where hers once was, and very slowly and deliberately putting her peg back where it belongs.

“I don’t think you understand the trouble you’ve just gotten into Mr. Locksley,” she finally breaks the weighted silence after he’s set the peg back down.

“Nice pun, Ms. Mills,” he delivers with a wry smile, “r’you supposed to be an advertiser for the game and lose this badly?”

Her tongue jets her cheek out. “Oh, just you wait.”

She’s right though because it would seem that all betrayals in the realm of _Trouble_ come with a price, for it isn’t long before Henry returns the favor in kind, conquering one of Robin’s pieces and sending right back to where it came from, something that Regina Mills seems to get quite the delight out of. The cycle goes on, then with them mostly rolling and moving and rolling and moving, with the occasional exclamation when someone sends someone else’s peg back or someone made it to their destination.

Soon, it dwindles down to the wire. Henry and Robin have only one piece left but are stuck in home, Regina has two left but both are out on the board with one dangerously close to home and the other having just started, but the man of the hour is Roland Cassidy who has only one piece left and only half the board left to conquer. While the other three had been trying their hardest to best the other by sending their pegs back, Roland had slipped under the radar, only getting swept up in the war once, but otherwise came out unscathed and the one destined to win.

And he does. Roland wins by a landslide, luckily rolling the exact right amount on his final roll to glide into the finish line. Regina, however, struggles to get the right number to get her last peg in but manages just before Henry can get his final one in, leaving him in third and Robin Locksley dead last—the only bad part being his bruised ego and the teasing Regina will surely inflict upon him.

“Can we play again, pretty please?” Roland begs sweetly.

Regina glances down at her watch, prompting Robin to do the same. They’d been playing for almost 45 minutes now, meaning Zelena should be arriving any time soon.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetie. Your foster mom should be here any minute. Why don’t we watch a little TV while we wait just a little bit longer, how about that?”

“Okay! Can we watch SpongeBob? Pleeeeease?” Roland’s last word extenuated for emphasis and only stressed harder when Henry chimes in on the _please_.

The adults cave and the four of them end up settling on the sofa with Robin and Regina on each arm and Henry and Roland in between them, respectively. Robin looks over to see Roland tucking himself further and further into Regina’s side and it brings an undeniable smile to his face, one that is mirrored on Regina’s, he notices, when she looks across the couch at Robin.

It’s a split second, a momentary lapse, where Robin Locksley thinks again that this moment is right, that this is exactly how it’s meant to be. This unit that is sitting together, watching SpongeBob, is meant to be together. It hits him, then, hard and fast, like an arrow straight through his heart. Maybe he could get used to this. Perhaps, his earlier promise to Henry isn’t so unfounded after all. This is nice. This is good.

But it’s not just the boys his heart jumps for, not at all, because when his eyes melt into the chocolate ones starting back at him, his heart stutters relentlessly in his chest.

No. That’s not right. He knows that that isn’t. He can’t. There’s no way in hell that he has feelings for Regina Mills. It’s impossible and… wrong. But then why can’t he shake the overwhelming feeling that he belongs right here, like this, with her and with the boys.

He starts to squirm in his seat, thinking to rise and declare that he needs a little air but before he can even get up, there a quick rapping on the door.

“My mommy’s here!” Roland squees.

Robin can hear Henry hissing low, “Stop calling her that.” And Roland straightens up, pouting slightly now after his brother’s reprimand.

Regina makes her way over to the door to let in the red headed space cadet, who doesn’t seem the least bit frazzled like a normal mother that forgot her children at school. Guess the spa really works, or at least, that’s what Robin is going to let himself believe because the alternative is unbearable.

“Were they good?” Zelena asks in a severely professional tone.

Regina smiles politely in turn and Robin can see one of her fists clench against her hip. “Of course they were. They were a delight.”

“Oh, well thanks for your trouble,” she extends a fifty dollar bill to the brunette who balks at it.

“I don’t want your money,” she says shortly. “But what I do want is to know that these boys are safe. And next time you want to neglect them for your little ‘ _spa day,_ ’ I’ll make sure to call CPS on your ass so fast, you’re gonna need another spa day to undo the damage I would cause. Am I clear?”

Robin feels a swell of pride and gratitude towards Regina, speaking her mind and laying out the truth as it should be.

“You don’t get to tell me how to parent, Ms…?”

“Mills. And you’ll do well to remember that because you’re right, Ms. Mills may not be able to tell you how to parent, but Ms. Mills sure as hell can make sure CPS does.”

Zelena glowers at Regina for a moment, and he assumes that Regina is returning the look but her back is to him, so he can’t be sure. After those moments pass, Zelena merely whips around and stalks out the door, barking that the boys follow her.

Regina catches onto Henry’s arm as he goes to cross the threshold. “Hey, you’ll tell me if something isn’t right, yes?” she whispers.

Henry nods quickly before jetting out the door after the other two, not another word said. When they’re out of sight, she returns to the couch, dropping herself on the edge of the seat she’d previously occupied.

 “I’m scared for them,” she says timidly and Robin can feel a bit of his heart ice over—his blood turning cold.

“Hey,” he coos, shifting over closer to her and placing a hand atop hers, “you did all you could. And you’re doing a right solid job at it. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure nothing happens to those boys.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She pauses, dragging her trembling bottom lip through her teeth. “So, what did you tell Henry?”

“Same thing I just told you. I won’t let a damn thing happen to them, I swear it on my life.”

He knows he should’ve confronted the issue from this morning with Henry and with Regina now, but all that matters to him is caring for them. He just wants them to all be okay.

“Me too,” she volleys back quietly. She clears her throat after a few seconds of her looking distantly at the floor and him peering hard at the part in her hair. Soon, his eyes are met back with hers again. “So do you like lasagna?”

“Huh?” he answers confusedly.

“The food? Lasagna? Do you like it?”

“Yeah, sure, of course.” Gods, he’s a disaster.

“Good, because you’re eating here tonight.”

“You’re gonna cook me dinner?” He smiles foolishly.

Her nose tips to the air, as is custom for her. “Well, it’s the least I could do as payment for helping me watch the boys.”

He squeezes the hand his is still resting on, “It was my pleasure, really. But I won’t turn down a free meal.”

“Not entirely free. Can’t have you stealing from me, too, thief, at least since I’m not sleeping with you.”

“We can always change that you know,” he interjects.

She rolls her eyes, scoffing. “Stop talking and get in the kitchen.”

“Ooooh, the kitchen. An interesting place to start,” he can’t help himself but to say.

“Jesus, I think I’m going to retract my dinner offer…”

“Okay, okay,” he concedes, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I’ll behave.”

“You better.”

She leads them into the kitchen, which is small and not surprisingly so, given how large her living room is. But he doesn’t get a chance to take it in before she’s bustling around the room, pulling out pots, pans and an oven dish. “Okay, Locksley, can you preheat the oven to 375 and then grab the ground beef out of the refrigerator?”

He nods as she takes the big pot to the sink to fill it up with water. He does as he’s told, preheating the oven to 375 degrees and then moving on to his retrieval from the refrigerator, but he’s stunted before he can complete his task because he’s suddenly come face to face with the quick sketch he’d done of Regina’s horse (poorly, he might add, now that he’s reviewing it).

“Regina…” he starts, slowly, slipping the drawing out from beneath the magnet it’s hanging on and turning to face its owner. “What’s this?”

“Hmmm?” she hums absentmindedly, moving to face him. Upon impact, her face completely drains of blood. “Don’t.”

“You hung up my drawing.”

“On the _refrigerator._ I’d do the same thing with a five year old—wow, seems fitting don’t you think?” She shuts him down.

“You like my drawing.” It’s another blanket statement, usually meant to be asked in normal conversation but he knows statements will get him faster to the truth.

“I like Rocinante.”

“You like _my_ drawing of Rocinante.”

“That doesn’t mean I like _you_ ,” she fires back.

“You just like my drawing skills.”

“No, I just like the picture.”

“Ha!” he exclaims. “So, you like my drawing.”

She sighs, “If I say yes, will you be quiet?”

“Well, I can’t make promises like that.”

“Robin.”

“Okay, just say it.”

She grimaces, “Fine, I like the drawing of Rocinante…” he waits for her to give him ownership, “…that you did.”

“Thank you,” he replies with a wide grin. “I’ll try to remember you when I get my own high class art gallery.”

“Ah, yes, my greatest achievement,” she mocks.

He chuckles softly, “That picture is mine.”

“Oh please,” she dismisses.

“No, really it is, I swear it.”

“How?” she asks dubiously.

“Because it makes you happy, whether you want to admit that or not—and that makes me happy.”

“Your happiness is defined by mine?”

“Not ‘defined’ per se, but I mean, it just makes me glad that it can bring you happiness.”

“You getting soft on me, Locksley?”

“What if I am?” he tries.

“Then I’ll call an exorcist right away because, surely, you’re possessed. Then I'll start a relief campaign to get as many coats, as possible, to Hell because it’ll be freezing down there.”

“So, I get treated like a nut for being a normal human and not a robot, where’s the justice in that?”

“You get treated like a nut for not being like you.”

“So you want me to stay as I am?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Not in so many words but, yes, you did. You don’t want me to change. You like me the way that I am.”

“No, I’d just be concerned you had a traumatic brain injury or something. Although, perhaps you had one long ago, hence why you are the way you are.”

He knows it’s no use. She’ll never reveal her true feelings on who he is because Robin believes, or at least _wants_ to believe, that Regina rather likes him for the way that he is, that she enjoys his company, and that she’s ultimately glad that she knows him. Though, she, like him in regards to her, won’t openly admit it—they’re both too bloody stubborn to be the first to do so. He’s okay with that, though. He’s fond of their game of avoidance, and he’ll do it as long as she let’s them.

He beams an ostentatious smile, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Regina, as he intends.

“What?”

“Just glad you like me, TBI and all. That’s very kind of you.”

She picks up on his angle directly. “So if I say I don’t like you, then I look like an ass and if I say I do then you get the self-satisfaction?” she surmises.

“Yes, that would be the goal.”

She huffs, “Well, you’re not getting an answer, because you’re gonna get out of my kitchen.”

“You don’t want my help?”

“No I want you out. You’ll mess it up anyway. Go sit on the couch and watch some TV or something,” she suggests.

He does as he’s told, shuffling back into the living room to plop down on her black leather sectional. He picks up the remote and finds the menu button, which leads to a screen with multiple apps, a guide, a search bar, a games app (something he momentarily considers choosing), On Demand, her DVR and lastly a Netflix app. He decides on the last item, there’s no better way to pry into someone’s personal life/tastes than reviewing their Netflix queue.

“Hey,” he hollers out to her, “I’m not gonna find any porny movies in your recently watched Netflix queue, am I?”

“What?!” He hears the oven door slam and the slamming of the balls of her feet against the tile, which ceases, when they find the carpet. “What do you think you’re doing?” But by the time she’s reached him to actually see in real time what he’s up to, it’s too late. He’s found her continue watching list and weeding through it.

“Why haven’t you finished watching so many of these?”

“Because I have a life.” She sounds annoyed but it only brings him pleasure.

“So let’s watch one of these.”

“What? No.”

“C’mon, how about…” he scrolls a little until he lands on _Love Actually_ , “British romantic comedy at its finest?” But Regina crinkles her nose and respectfully declines. It isn’t until Robin lands on _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ that her eyes light up and Robin knows that he’s found the one. “Okay, I haven’t seen this one in its entirety anyway, so, _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ it is.”

“But we’ll have to eat and—”

“So we’ll eat in here,” he offers nonchalantly.

“Yes and get food and wine all over my carpet?”

He takes a lesson from Regina Mills quip handbook. “Oh, what are we five? I think we can manage.”

It takes Regina a spell before she finally yields to Robin’s suggestion and they end up dangerously consuming her (very delicious) lasagna and wine on opposite ends of the sectional, as the film starts.

“If you get anything on my carpet, you’ll regret the day you were born,” she threatens.

“You realize that threatening me is only going to make me want to purposefully dump this on your floor.”

“You are the most incredibly annoying person I’ve ever met, Robin Locksley. I’ll have you know that.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Wasn’t a compliment,” she retorts.

“Given who you are, I consider it a compliment.”

“Shut up and watch the damn movie. And don’t you dare knock it. It’s one of my favorites.”

They’re introduced to their heroine, Holly Golightly, who seems to live a lavish life, though she lives in a danky, cluttered-yet-totally-empty apartment with a nutcase super and a new resident, a man by the name of Paul, whom is deemed quickly as ‘Fred’ by Holly. The first thirty minutes is dedicated to the unfolding of their friendship and the rest of Robin and Regina’s meals.

Soon, Holly and Paul have ignited a companionship, becoming close enough friends that Holly slips into Paul’s room late in the evening to avoid a clingy guy. He feels like Regina would more than likely do the same thing if she was put in a similar situation. Holly is up walking around, smoking a cigarette, while Paul remains in bed, listening to her tell stories of her brother, that is until she’s interrupted by the chime of the clock.

_“It can’t be four-thirty, it just can’t. D’you mind if I just get in with you for a minute? It’s alright, it really is. We’re friends that’s all.”_

Regina laughs in derision.

“What? You don’t think that’s legit?” he asks.

She cocks her head to one side and raises a brow. “What do you think?”

“You don’t think two friend’s can do that?”

He knows the answers no and he almost agrees with her because it is a romantic gesture of sorts, but as is Robin’s custom, he’s terribly fond of pushing Regina Mills’ buttons.

He doesn’t even need to attempt to catch Regina’s eye, because she’s looking right back at him across the couch, when he looks over at her. She must sense the grin daring to creep up on his face because she quickly delivers a defiant “ _No.”_ But his grin only gets wider, causing her frown to only grow as well. “Don’t even think about it.”

“We’re friends that’s all,” he teasingly parrots Audrey Hepburn with a terrible imitation of her voice.

“Not friends who do that.”

He can’t deny the boyish lift of his heart at her admitting their friendship.

“You believe so deeply in this movie and now you’re saying it’s wrong?”

“What I believe is that they aren’t even friends at this point. It’s clear that he’s madly in love with her from the get go and what sensible woman jumps into bed with a guy for no other reason than to go to sleep?”

Fair point.

Robin is the one to roll his eyes this time. “Oh, please, it’s not like either of them were planning to have sex with the other in that moment. It’s totally platonic.”

“It’s intimate.”

“It’s friendly.”

“Is not.”

“Only if you make it that way. What are you afraid of, Mills? Scared it’ll be more than that if you curl up next to me?”

“No,” she answers flatly. “Well, not for me. Maybe it means more to you.”

“Swear on my life it doesn’t.” He must not value his life too greatly then, it seems.

“Says you.”

“I also say that if you won’t do it, I think it means the same for you.”

“So, me—” she shudders, “cuddling up to you will prove it doesn’t?”

He simply shrugs, saying nothing else. He secretly wants her to choose, not because he gets her in a catch-22, but because she wants to be near him. He watches her mull it over while steadily settling back into his corner, convinced that she’s still deciding against it. And he executively decides that it’s for the best, partially because he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable and partially because he runs the risk of exacerbating that little seed that was planted in his heart earlier today with her and the boys. Robin Locksley can’t have that. He can’t have feelings.

But that stops becoming anything that matters when he hears the rubbing of the leather, loudly introducing Regina moving closer to him. She doesn’t immediately curl up into his side but sits a distance away and he doesn’t make any motion to con her into coming any closer. Instead, he gives his attention back to the movie, where Mr. Yunioshi is yelling in the phone at Paul for Holly’s party. He tries to cover his smile as he can feel her creeping closer to him.

And upon the meeting between Sally Tomato and Paul Varjack, Robin’s right side gets encompassed in heat. “Make this weird and I’ll destroy you if it is the last thing I do,” she mutters. “I’m simply proving a point.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs softly. He makes sure to keep his arm settled on the top of the couch, not touching Regina. And she isn’t touching him either, technically. There is a sliver of space between their legs and the rest of her body is set in the framework of his arm but not exactly touching it.

However, she must feel the vibrations of his chest as he hums along to Hepburn singing _Moon River_ , because she asks, “You know this song?”

“Darling, all of Sinatra’s records covering this song belonged to me. Of course I do,” he breaks his melody just briefly to inform her, before joining back in with “…rainbow’s end,” only to slip up, mistaking the next line for ‘my Huckleberry friend,’ but Regina laughs and quickly intercepts, finishing the original line for him with _waiting ‘round the bend_ and emphasizing the correct placement of _my Huckleberry friend._ But then together they end very loud and obnoxiously with “ _Moon river and me._ ”

“Well, Mr. Sinatra would be disappointed. As would Ms. Hepburn.”

“That they would,” Robin laughs. “That they would.”

The twosome falls silent for awhile, with nothing but the occasional sound of them sipping their wine during Doc’s arrival and subsequent departure.

When they get to Holly’s drinking binge, Robin starts chuckling.

“What?” she inquiries.

“It’s you!” Robin cries out.

She whaps his breast bone. “Be quiet.”

It isn’t until Paul is practically dumping 2E (Regina is now resting against his shoulder) and Paul’s telling her how he likes the feeling of being able to help someone, namely Holly, for once, that Regina exclaims that now it is Robin before them, incarnate of Paul.

“Little Mister Helpful,” she pokes fun, as she pinches his cheek.

“I believe the wine has gotten to your head, love.” He glances down at her kindly and he can feel his throat dry up and his heart dive right to the pit of his stomach. She’s smiling widely, now and he’s totally captivated by her. She’s so beautiful that he can’t get over it, even though now her hair is in a messy bun, thrown up while she’d been cooking, and most of her make up was gone too. But she’s the most gorgeous thing, anyhow. He has to control the thudding of his heart in his chest, but instead, his reaction is just to wrap his arm tighter around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him.

She traces a finger against his chest, murmuring into it, “Oh, hush you.”

He chuckles, watching her head bob in time with the lift of his chest.

“Robin,” she says so quietly, he almost misses it.

“What, love?”

“Thank you for helping today.” She’s still tracing her finger along his pectoral, leaving goosebumps in her wake.

 _Anything for you, Regina._ “Well, I’d do anything for those boys.”

“Me too.” Her hand finally stops the circles and her palm finally rests on his chest. She yawns.

“Tired?”

“A little,” she admits. “But the movie’s almost over so it’s okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Mhm, now, hush, it’s getting to the best part,” she scolds.

He resigns again to silence, this time a touch longer than the first few times.

_“What’s that?”_

_“Fifty dollars for the powder room.”_

“Ooooh, that’s cold,” Robin whispers, but Regina says nothing. “You think he was wrong?” Still nothing. “Regina?” But his last question is pointless because he’s already looking down to find her sleeping against his chest.

Robin relaxes, trying to finish watching the movie but he can’t help but feel beguiled by the hum of her snores. It’s a really beautiful sound and it almost tugs him into the land of dreams. He manages to keep awake though, watching the finale of the film unfold before him.

When Holly gets out of the taxicab to go fetch the cat and reunite with Paul, the _Moon River_ theme returns once more and he hums along, mixing with the melody of her breathing sounds. And he’s overcome with a peacefulness that he doesn’t want to rid himself of.

He lingers long after Netflix has returned back to its main menu and he almost thinks to just succumb to sleep, letting it overpower him slowly… just for a little while…

[:]

Robin hasn’t a clue what time it is when he finally rouses again but it only feels like a few minutes. Regina is still sound asleep against him, her legs sprawled out across the rest of the sectional. He knows he needs to get up and go home. They have school tomorrow and he’ll have to shower and change tomorrow morning. However, he stays in for just a moment, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and relishing in the radiation of her body heat.

_Okay, Robin it’s time to go._

He wriggles a little in his place, thankfully in a position where he hopes he can set her head on a throw pillow and slip out. But just before he heads to the door, he thinks, despite the heat, that she may get cold.

He knows he shouldn’t go snooping around her home but he seeks out a blanket anyway, eventually finding one in a linen closet in her bathroom. When he returns, he takes a pause watching her chest move in a steady rhythm. It’s different from the last time that he abandoned her passed out drunk on the very same couch just a few weeks prior. They’re closer now, far too close, if he’s honest. Robin knows he’s reaching a danger zone, developing something that might resemble an attraction. It’s a mistake, he knows it. Regina Mills doesn’t like being a caged up animal—that’s why she won’t commit to anything she has at present or why she won’t divulge anything about her past. Regina is Holly Golightly; she’s a wild thing.

_You mustn’t give your heart to a wild thing._

He crosses, then back over to where she is, drapes the blanket over her and places a gentle kiss against her temple. “Goodnight, wild thing.”

_You mustn’t give your heart to a wild thing._

But, oh, how tempting it is.


	9. Chapter Nine

She’s warm, a feeling she’s not too familiar with, but one she’s completely aware she’s captivated in at the moment. It’s also a feeling that has her curling further inward towards the core of this warmth enrapturing her. It’s hypnotizing; almost making Regina regret any decision she’s ever made against relationships and the dreaded feeling of love. Usually, those two things only make her feel caged up and weak, defenseless against those who aim to hurt her, but right now, that’s quite the opposite of how she feels—she feels safe, protected and far from the arms of any kind of emotional abuse that could be given to her.

It hasn’t exactly hit her _who_ this safety and protection is, that is, until the blanket of arms around her snorts a little in his sleep.

 _Robin_.

Shit.

How is it again that she’s managed to land herself tucked away safely in Robin’s arms with the lilt of his breathing sounds slowly tugging her back to sleep? She knows how—she practically orchestrated it herself. Regina knew exactly what she was doing the moment she told him that he was staying for dinner. If she’s totally honest with herself, subconsciously her current situation was part of her intent. Of course, she didn’t know that this exact scenario would have come to fruition, but she did know that letting Robin stay over for any given amount of time, while they were alone, would only lead to some kind of mischief. That’s not to say that she planned for them to be making out on the couch either, or anything, but somehow the forbidden fruit of their friendship beckons her and she couldn’t resist the temptation.

She’s comfortable at this moment, stored safely beneath Robin’s bulky arm, which he has draped across her chest. She doesn’t move, doesn’t dare even breathe for fear of waking him. But she does maneuver just well enough so that she can tilt her head back to look at her patio doors (that don’t really lead to a patio but rather a makeshift ground floor balcony) to see the sky lighting up, reaching out towards the sunrise. They need to get up, especially so that Robin can go home to change and not show up to school wearing the same outfit that he wore the previous day. There would be rumors then for sure and she’d have no way to fend them off because even if they aren’t sleeping together, the circumstances don’t look strictly professional anyway. She doesn’t want to move, though, doesn’t care to rip herself away from the comfort she currently feels and no one knows that it’s her apartment that he stayed at, so she snuggles in closer and lingers there in Robin’s arms.

And she doesn’t move again until he croaks sleepily and shifts around beneath her. She stays still, thinking that maybe he’s still asleep because he goes quiet after that, but then he voices her name quietly, almost inaudibly and she knows they have to get up.

She sighs, rising and feigning the appearance of having just woken herself. “Robin?” she asks wearily, rubbing one of her lids with her fist.

“Good morning,” he answers with sleep-drenched syllables and it does something to her, making her feel weak in the knees and shaky her thighs.

“Good morning,” she parrots back, her top teeth extending out over her bottom lip to scrape across it. The last part of her bottom lip she catches and chews on as she looks up at Robin.

“We should probably get up,” he tells her and she’s fairly certain she hears a touch of reluctance in his voice and her heart rises to the occasion. In fact, she nearly suggests that they just stay as they are for just a little while longer. Maybe they could just call in. Deep down, she knows it’s impossible and she knows she needs to sit up this instance and get ready for work.

But, then there’s always stalling, “We should…” She leaves the statement open-ended in hopes that he’ll catch her drift, sucking in part of her bottom lip between her teeth again.

It must have some effect because she can feel his arms tighten ever so slightly around her waist and she can envision the sultry smirk settled upon his lips.

It’s going to be a long morning.

“I’ll get up if you do,” he offers, but his hands and arms don’t move an inch, staying securely wrapped around her abdomen.

He, of course, is leaving the decision up to her. Asshole. But it makes sense—she usually would be the one to end the fun and games to get down to business. She mulls it over, quietly humming a tuneless song. They really do need to get up and move. The kids can’t each themselves Common Core—hell, adults can’t even teach themselves Common Core.

“Fine,” she finally grouses, shifting out of his hold, save the brief struggle before he can move his arm and let her out.

When they’ve both managed to free themselves from the comfort of the couch, she speaks, “We slept in late so if you’d rather get ready here, you can. I have a couple of Graham’s dress shirts that you can use.”

He pauses momentarily, then nods. “Yeah, sure okay. Who’s gonna shower first?”

“That depends,” she gives him a suspicious look, “are you gonna use all the hot water?”

“On my honor, I won’t.” He throws up a hand and places the other across his heart.

“Fine. Since you are my guest, you may shower first.”

“I’ll be quick, promise.”

She rolls her eyes, knowing that probably won’t happen, but she leads him to the bathroom, anyway. She instructs him not to use her organic lavender citrus shampoo but he’s welcome to use the Head and Shoulders that Graham left and hasn’t been back to use in like a month but everything else is off limits. He complies and she departs, remarking one last thing over her shoulder about getting water on her floor and the likelihood that she’ll reenact the shower scene from _Psycho_.

Regina busies herself with making coffee allowing for her apartment to be draped in the musky fragrance, which doesn’t quite wake her but makes all of her nerve endings become alert and open up to the possibility of rousing. The scent wafts through the open space of her kitchen and out into the living room enough to where Regina can brave taking a seat back on the sectional without worrying about falling asleep again. She rests, at the very least, for just a moment, taking a few calming breaths to brace herself for the day before she hears Robin call for her again.

She should’ve known that he’d break something.

She pads her way back to the bathroom, finding out that the smell of the coffee has drifted all the way to her bedroom. She takes a swift view of her room, checking that everything is still in order (she hasn’t forgotten Robin’s swipe of the Starbucks card) even though she knows that he hasn’t touched anything. It’s all as she last left it—her silky dark taupe sheets and pure white down comforter are perfectly made, her things that she left on the dresser are there still and the floors are tidy as they should be. The only disparagements in sight are the vase of wilting white carnations next to her bed—she must stop forgetting to water them—and the light that’s poring out of the bathroom on to her laminate flooring. She approaches the bathroom with caution, unsure of what exactly she’ll find in that light. But when she reaches the entrance and peeks her head in, she discovers Robin rising from a squatting position in the shower with his dress shirt and boxers still on.

She blinks at him for a second, trying to register in her brain that Robin is standing before her half naked.

“You trying to seduce me?” she jokes, down casting her eyes and feeling slightly embarrassed. It’s not as though she’s never seen a man without his pants on but she fears that this one might be a touch too inappropriate. Then again, she’s the one who allowed for it.

“Is it working?” he tries, giving her a look that she thinks is meant to be sexy but fails.  

“No,” she replies flatly, trying to fight against her insistent smile. She finally plucks up the courage to peek over at him. He has really small legs, she notes, but they’re long, or well, longer than she thought. Their height difference isn’t much when she’s in heels but now that she’s free of the iron grip of knock-off designer brand stilettos, which are equally as painful as the real deal, she notices that he’s a good head taller than her. But his legs are tiny in width and it almost makes her laugh because he has a good build in his abdomen and torso and she guesses that she just expected them to be larger. Although, not that much larger because it’s not like he has chicken legs or anything, but he’s not far off.  

She supposes if he were naked then maybe she could see that he’s evened out. Not that she’s thinking about the idea of him being naked—or, at least, solely for curiosities sake of his build not that she desires to see him naked in any social context.

She gets agitated with her own thought process and concludes that she has nothing to prove to herself. Her frustration, however, bleeds into her words, anyway. “What do you need?”

He looks sheepishly at her, peeking beneath the cover of his short, but visible, eyelashes. “I was trying to start the shower on my own but it seems I’m incompetent.”

“Well, I could’ve told you that,” she taunts.

“Don’t kick a man while he’s down,” he grumbles back.

“Oh, hush,” she chastises and walks over to the knob, pushing it in ever so slightly to turn it. “There’s a trick to it.”

She knows she should’ve warned him to get out of the way but she doesn’t and simply watches as the water comes falling down on him. Jokes on her, though, because, as she watches the water cascade down his torso, it soaks his shirt and clings tightly to his body, giving her a sharpening view of his chest.

 _Look away, Regina_.

But she can’t take her eyes off of him, watching as the shirt becomes more and more see-through.

She’s so distracted that she doesn’t even hear him holler out a, “Hey!” until there’s water being splashed in her face.

She is thrown off guard and sputters before looking at Robin, who she can tell is feeling daring and simply waiting for her next move.

“You’re gonna regret that,” she threatens, flaring out her nostrils for effect.

“Eh, I think there’s something else, you might make me regret more.”

“What?” She knows as soon as it’s out of her mouth that she shouldn’t have said it, and he only justifies the feeling by reaching out for her and snaking his arms around her waist to pull her into the shower with him.

“Robin!” she roars as the water begins to fall on her now.

He tips his head back and laughs buoyantly, filling up the space around them. “You asked.”

She doesn’t answer but engages in a struggle with him beneath the running water. They splash each other in an attempt to gain the advantage and push the other into the line of water raining down but it’s no use because they’re _both_ soaked head to foot.

At this rate, they may as well shower together.

Her nerve endings are super charged, far past the reach of the coffee that’s burning in her kitchen but that’s distant from her mind now as she watches Robin saunter nearer to her. She backs up a step equivalent to every pace he takes towards her, until she reaches the shower wall and has nowhere left to move. All she can do is watch as he gets as close as he possibly can to her.

He locks her in place, back firmly against the wall with his arms on either side of her.

The way his eyes dig immediately below the surface of her skin, mentally mapping out every part of her, sends a zing straight down to her clit and has her pressing her thighs firmly together, as if to mask her feelings of arousal or maybe to satiate it. She can feel her tongue glue itself perfectly to the roof of her mouth as her throat becomes as dry as it often does in Albuquerque. _Her eyes_ , on the other hand, are tracing the outline of his mouth, the way his soft pink lips part and take their final descent to her skin, but he forgoes her mouth, which she doesn’t anticipate, and starts straight on the spot just below her jaw. Her head immediately falls backward in response, accompanied by a soft exhale.

He suckles sweetly at that point before moving downward, carefully placing warm tender kisses to various places on her neck, leading all the way down to it’s base. He detours to her clavicle, or at least, what he can reach of it, nipping at it and eliciting an almost indiscernible hiss from Regina. He murmurs an apology in the crook of her neck and then continues to kiss back up to that same spot he started at.

Her head is spinning, whirling around like a mobile, slowly and deliberately, but all the more dizzying. She doesn’t even notice as her fingers clamor to the buttons of his dress shirt and his to the hem of hers to tug it upward. Their arms get stuck in the crossfire, tangling amidst garment and other limbs.

She doesn’t understand what she’s doing but it feels natural, fluid, like she always does this with Robin.

But it’s with Graham, she registers somewhere in her basilar thoughts. She knows it’s Graham that she does this with, but it’s not Graham in front of her now. There’s no making sense of it, though, because her mind keeps telling her that she’s in the right place, pinned against the wall by Robin in a shower, while his warm lips devour her jugular and her hands smooth themselves over his chest. She makes another attempt to rub her thighs together to get some pressure where she needs it.

“Someone’s wet,” he teases playfully, cocking his right eyebrow nearly to his hairline.

“I think that would be both of us,” she answers a bit breathlessly. She’s been holding it while she’s been trapped in close quarters with Robin, as they are, for a few reasons. One being that she has yet to have brushed her teeth this morning; and another being that should she breathe, Robin might catch its shaky nature and interpret how nervous she is.

“Ha, yes true, but I wasn’t exactly referring to that kind of wet per se…” He’s looking at her so mischievously, and she can’t deny what a turn on it is.

She doesn’t remember how it happens—it’s kind of like a blip, one minute he’s hitting on her and the next suddenly she’s sinking down on her knees. Both their shirts are off. His boxers, however, have stayed where they are, constricting against his growing erection and leaving Regina’s curiosity only piqued for what’s inside. Her hand reaches for the thin cloth veiling what she really wants, but if Robin wants to play games, then she will be more than happy to oblige. So she reaches up, skimming her hand, in feather light fashion, up the fabric, just hard enough for Robin to feel it, but just soft enough to where it’s not nearly enough friction.

He groans aloud, giving Regina the encouragement to do it again. Robin’s breathing only gets shallower and his voice more guttural and desperate, but Regina doesn’t relent so easily. She keeps the steady motion going, trailing her finger lackadaisically, while the other tugs softly at the waistband of his boxers.

“This is unfair, you know,” he rasps, smiling down playfully at her and threads his fingers through her hair. He adds, “At least, touch yourself if I can’t.”

Those words create a massive lump in her throat but she doesn’t protest and takes the hand tracing the outline of his cock down to her pants, slipping it inside her own underwear and pressing two fingers firmly to her clit. She moans softly as she starts rubbing circles, grinding her sex against her fingers. Regina feels like she’s going into sexual overdrive and wastes no time after that for teasing. Instead, she claws at his boxers, unable to get them off fast enough.

She knows somewhere in the back of her mind this makes no sense, because she’s certainly more dignified than having dirty shower sex with Robin. And yet, it all feels natural, so she doesn’t stop herself.

With Robin’s help, they get the boxers down and she waits until his boxers can shimmy themselves the rest of the way down his calves. She immediately reaches for his shaft then, pumping it several times in her fist before crawling a little closer to dart her tongue out to the tip.

“Oh, Regina,” he cries out too the ceiling while tipping his head back, but his moans are cut short by a shrill ringing.

At first, she remembers the coffee and knows it’s probably burning, causing her smoke alarm to go off, but it’s not her smoke detector, and instead, another faintly familiar sound. She’s puzzled by it for a moment, knowing that it means something because her body reacts to the noise by perking up and tensing to the sound. She thinks and thinks on what it could mean and why she’s so attentive to it. Her thoughts follow the trail of the sound, which searches in her mind to the place that knows it. And she drifts farther and farther into her thoughts until she finally finds the one neuron that fires to tell her what it is.

Her alarm clock.

Suddenly, she’s cold, a feeling she knows well. She’s cold despite the fact that she’s covered by a blanket and the leather of the sectional around her has absorbed her body heat and is returning it to her. But she’s cold because it does not mimic the warmth of the body that was once lying beneath her. Confusion hovers like a cloud overhead, fogging up the memory of her dream and the reality she’s now cautiously opening her eyes to.  She has to ask herself out loud where she is but as she blinks everything into focus, she looks over to her coffee table and finds a box of _Trouble_ and two mostly empty wine glasses. The floodgates open and her brain is swamped with reality, while her dream slowly drowns into a faint memory.

The pictures and sounds fade away, but the feeling stays, settled right in the pit of her stomach, heavy as a rock, but brittle enough to send pebbles of emotion into her throat.

She had sex with Robin—in her head—but still.

Her eyes dart around to see if he is still around but there is no trace of him, giving her a safe haven to grip the idea that she just dreamt about giving Robin Locksley a blowjob in her shower.

It was going to be a long morning, indeed.

[:]

She has a headache. But that kind of comes with the territory of being a teacher and after her brain took a trip down erotica lane, the pain has been magnified. She doesn’t notice, though, until she’s filing children into a lunch line and then taking her seat at the teacher’s table. She’s alone, the other teachers haven’t arrived, and so she takes a moment to gather herself.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

She’s going to make it through the day, hopefully. But field trip days are always the worst and given her sleeping arrangements the night previous, she pretty much set herself up for a headache. Then again, it could be self-fulfilling prophecy where she gave herself a headache, knowing that she inevitably would get one. Because, if she’s honest, she slept really well last night. Of course, she can’t admit that aloud, nor even simply to herself, so she’ll just blame this stupid day instead.

But this is only the beginning of her stupid day, she realizes, as she feels her phone buzz in her pocket and she pulls it out to see who’s calling.

It’s her mother.

Cora Mills only calls twice a year. Once on Regina’s birthday in February and again on the day Regina’s father died.

But today is neither of those days, so she hasn’t the damnedest clue why her mother is calling. Nor does she understand why Cora insists on calling when she knows that her daughter will never answer. It’s been years, long enough for Cora to understand that Regina will never speak to her again. Not after what she did. Never. And yet, year after year, Cora still calls.

Regina can feel that prickling at the back of her skull and all the blood drain from her face as she watches the screen light up and feels the vibrations in her hand.

“Who’s Cold, Heartless Bitch?” she hears behind her, giving her reason to jump and turn to find the intruder.

Robin. Of course.

She scowls, not in the mood for his games or any pleasantries that she knows he will bring to the table (literally). She can’t take it, not now with her mother breathing down her neck all the way from Phoenix.

It’s strange because that’s the exact feeling that Regina gets whenever her mother calls or even comes up in a conversation (though that seldom happens, Regina is sure of that). Cora can be miles away and have had no contact with her daughter and still manage to be the little gnat buzzing in her ear on a hot summer day. Regina can hear the voices inside her head, whispering low and callously, nitpicking everything she does and reminding her of what she did in Phoenix. Her presence is still regrettably felt despite the distance.

And to make matters worse, there’s a second nuisance right beside her.

“What are you doing here?” she growls, looking anywhere other than at Robin, because he has that thing about him, one that can make her shut off her defenses enough to let him seep in little by little until he’s seen her at her most vulnerable—until he’s torn down all her walls from the inside. And he can do all that with just one look.

“Well, I work here, much like you,” he answers jovially, oblivious to her hostility.

She knows he’s grinning, she can sense it but she tries to focus on a kid across the way who’s attempting to put a green bean in another kid’s hair. She thinks to get up and go scold the children, but she doesn’t move and just observes.

“Wow, I had no idea. And here I thought your job was to follow me around.” Her response is far more rancorous than she means but he’s so apt to piss her off that she can’t help it. Her snaps roll straight off the tongue.

He’s unfazed and returns the biting wit with more humor. “Ah, see that’s simply just a part time job. I needed another one to pay the bills, you know?”

She only scoffs and pulls her lips into a firm line, trying to fight her smile. But Robin ends up helping, by reaching forward and grabbing her phone. She watches in horror as he slides the green bar across and raises it to his ear to greet the person on the other end. Instead of a response, he frowns and tells her that she must’ve hung up.

Regina doesn’t speak immediately because she can feel an angry fire burning just below the surface of her skin. She wonders what would’ve happened had Cora answered the phone. Of course, Regina would’ve hung up the moment Robin handed the phone back to her but then Cora would still know that Regina’s phone works and that her daughter is perfectly alive and well and probably seeing the guy who answered the phone. Though, Regina is almost certain that Cora is probably keeping tabs on her anyway but Regina tries to evade aiding her mother in caring at all—it hurts less.

When Regina has regained some semblance of composure, she snatches the phone right out of Robin’s hands. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He shrugs. “Well, you didn’t seem to want to talk to Cold Heartless Bitch, so any enemy of yours must be a friend of mine, eh? ‘Sposed I could’ve talked to her.”

“First of all,” she snaps, “you do not touch my phone. And second of all, you, nor anyone else in my life—whether I want you to be a part of it or not—ever speaks to my mother. Am I clear?”

“That was your mum?”

“Am. I. Clear.”

“Yes,” he concedes, averting his eyes. “But why don’t you wan-”

“That’s none of your business,” she cuts him off. “Now, what do you want?”

She cannot stay on the topic of her parents for too long because one well-worded question could unlock the Pandora’s box of truths about Phoenix. And no one gets to know about Phoenix. She can feel the tears right at the back of her eyeballs. They’ve been putting up a good fight all day so far. She’s yet to have swallowed them down entirely, meaning they’ll threaten to ensue a complete meltdown if she ever yields to them in the slightest during the day.

Regina hates feeling like that. When that overwhelming sadness won’t leave her be, causing her to tiptoe through her day. A conversation that goes too long could entice the tears to find their way out or someone could dare them to come out by asking if she’s okay—god she hopes no one asks if she’s okay.

_Deep breath, Regina._

“I, uh, just wanted to thank you for last night. I really enjoyed it.” she can hear the apology in his voice and she almost feels bad for being angry with him—almost.

But her anger subsides when he mentions last night because then she’s revisited by her subconscious’ take on amateur porn. She feels the heat of anger that’s on her face quickly succumb to the heat of embarrassment. Oh good, the distraction from her familial issues is just as bad; and was technically escaped via her familial issues in the first place, leaving stuck in a continuous loop between the horrors of her past and the horrors of her present. Perhaps, the headache was meant to be a warning after all.

“You’re welcome,” she replies shortly, still averting her eyes, especially now. She won’t be able to look at him for at least a week, maybe even longer.

She doesn’t know why she’s so mortified by it. It’s not like she buys into all that Freudian crap. Her dreams do not really represent the dormant sexual desires that are holed up in her subconscious. It was merely because it’s been awhile since she’s had sex and Robin was the most recent thought in her mind so he took the place that Graham should’ve had. Her dreams were simply just telling her that she needs sex, not with Robin per se—just sex. And that would be with Graham because that’s who she’s with and that’s who gets to bed her.

Not Robin Locksley. Never Robin Locksley.

“Thank you for helping,” she adds after a brief pause because she is grateful that he was there. It was a great afternoon, the boys seemed to have enjoyed themselves and even Regina can’t deny that she had a lot of fun. She can feel a smile tug at the corners of her lips as she thinks on their rousing game of _Trouble_ but the memory quickly sours once she remembers Robin’s betrayal, giving her good reason to thwack him on the arm and incite an exclamation of pain from him.

She’s looking at him now and she feels her heart gush a little because even in pain, he still smiles. Though its edges are a little faded, the light still burns bright in his eyes and his dimples persevere.

“What the bloody hell was that for?!” He’s still smiling.

It’s nearly impossible not for her not to be smiling, too. “That was for _Trouble_ yesterday. I told you that you’d regret it.”

She told him he’d regret something else in her dream this morning but she sure as hell fell back on that promise. She almost hits him again for that even though it isn’t his fault for that one.

Robin rubs his arm and pouts a little. “All’s fair, Mills. I’ll keep in mind next time, that you’re a piss poor loser.”

“I’m not a ‘piss poor’ loser,” she mocks his accent with lazy detail, “I beat you. And I was just keeping my promise of making you regret your decision.”

“Oh,” he laughs softly, “is that what that was, hm?”

She doesn’t realize how closely they’ve moved into one another until she feels something wriggling between them. It’s Roland Cassidy, who’s trying to encircle his arms around Regina’s waist and hug her. Her smile is full-blown then, one of those good, crinkle-eyed, toothy grins that are the best show a person can give for the happiness overflowing in their heart.

“Hi, Miss Mills,” Roland says sweetly, squeezing her as hard as his five year old arms can.

Regina doesn’t look down to the boy anymore during the hug, but instead, to Robin, who’s looking right back at her. He shares that moment with her. Their thoughts are in sync and she knows it. They don’t have to say a single word but she knows his mind is trailing down the same thought pattern as her own. It’s just the three of them in their own little bubble.

She had the same feeling last night when she looked at Robin across the couch and they had the same little moment that they’re having now. She knows exactly what he’s thinking, and yet she hasn’t really got a clue. Or maybe she does know but she doesn’t want to be honest because she knows those thoughts mirror her own. And she doesn’t want them to.

Because she knows. She knows.

“Roland,” Robin chides softly, “shouldn’t you be sitting down?”

Roland’s eye shift straight to the ground and rubs his tiny hands together, having removed them from Regina’s waist. He answers with a meek, “Yes, Mr. Locksley.”

She can hear laughter etched into the spaces of Robin’s words as he reaches for Roland’s chin, pointing it upward so that both of them can see his lip poking out and tears forming in his eyes. “Well, as long as you know that,” Robin tells him. “You’re not in any trouble.” He leans close to the little boy. “Except, you might be in trouble with Miss Mills, for beating her in _Trouble_ yesterday. I hear she’s very upset with you.”

Roland’s big brown saucers for eyes turn to Regina, then, with his mouth agape.

“But,” Robin continues, “I think she’s willing to forgive us all for our superior _Trouble_ skills, right, Miss Mills?”

Regina feigns a smile and tells Roland that she is certainly not angry at him for yesterday, resulting in a hug and Regina mouthing an, “I hate you,” in Robin’s direction.

“Now, go sit and eat your lunch, m’boy before we go to activity.”

As Roland skips away, Regina makes the first remark, “You’re a terrible disciplinarian.”

“I’m a perfectly good disciplinarian,” Robin fires back defensively, “he’s siting down, inn’he?”

Regina scoffs dismissively. But, he is right, much to her dismay.

“Just because I don’t eat children for breakfast, doesn’t mean I’m a bad disciplinarian.”

“Kids are merely snacks. I eat adults for actual meals,” she volleys back flippantly and follows his gaze over to Roland and then back to his face.

“Where’s Henry today?”

“Sick.”

She has a feeling that’s not true, can sense it in the pit of her stomach, a place where her worry for him churns away. She doesn’t know why she’s overtly concerned, he probably just skipped because he forgot to get his permission slip signed.

“Hope he’s okay,” Robin mutters.

The truth easily slips out for Regina. “Me, too.”

“Well, I suppose, I’ll leave you be, then.” He rises and gives her a farewell nod.

“Good things come to those who wait,” she teases.

He simply laughs as he departs and she keeps tuned to its frequency until it’s out of earshot.

She realizes how quickly she sobers once Robin is gone and her tears are right back at the top of her throat, just as before. She can feel her heart tug across the room to him and she curses herself for such a feeling. But she can’t stop herself from watching him chat animatedly with Mrs. Lucas, his aide. His excitability is something she’s secretly always been fond of, because, though she may not show it, it’s a certainly contagious trait and one that she enjoys losing herself in when he’s around.

Regina finds herself making a checklist, then, of all the things about Robin that make her go weak in the knees—his physical attributes, of course, his stunning smile and accompanying dimples, his striking blue eyes that are worthy of drowning in, his woodsy scent, his impeccable hairstyle, parted just right every time and when not in pristine condition, has a few stray hairs fall in his face, making him look spent but in the sexiest way possible. And there are his emotional characteristics, his outstanding kindness, his flourishing amiability and his joie de vivre, his need to spread kindness even to those who do not want it, his love for children and his profession, and his simplicity in everything. He might be crass from time to time and achingly annoying and conceited, but when posed with his better faring qualities, she actually rather likes him—or well—

No, who is she trying to fool?

She likes him. It’s not wrong to admit it. Honestly, any woman in her right mind would say that about Robin. It doesn’t mean she’s going to lust after him—never, because she has Graham, but she can admit that she’s fond of Robin Locksley. As a person and a friend, she can admire him. There’s nothing at all wrong with that.

And yet, she still feels awful for it. The lump in her throat is now practically tangling with her uvula and nearly choking her. She knows it’s all the other things that are piled up on her today that have got her in this funk and making her feel like shit. The dream has her feeling like she’s betraying Graham, her mother always makes her feel like shit even when they don’t even exchange words and then there’s Phoenix, the bane of her existence.

She thinks about going to the restroom and getting the tears out. Once she gets a good cry out, she’ll feel relatively better. She might still feel like shit but at least, she won’t have the threat of bursting out into tears in public looming overhead.

But fate intervenes, determined to make her miserable.

Kathryn plops down with a defeated huff. “Bad news bears,” she mutters exasperatedly to Regina.

Great, bad news is all she needs now.

“What?”

“Field trip’s canceled,” Kathryn informs, stabbing at a piece of lettuce.

The vexed sigh now comes from Regina. “You’re kidding?”

“Nope,” Kathryn rebukes, “it’s pouring outside and David would rather wait until next Friday then chance getting a kid sick.”

Regina silently intakes the sound of Kathryn munching on the lettuce to try and evade the pounding in her ears and the throbbing in her skull.  The tears are stronger than ever. Usually, things like this make her annoyed, at best, but this time, it’s all but caused her to have an emotional meltdown.

But she’s got enough composure to ask, “So what do you wanna do with the kids? I have _no_ lesson plans for today and I’d rather not start on tomorrow’s.”

“Long indoor recess in the gym and then movie day?” Kathryn suggests.

“Sounds good.”

“How about _Finding Nemo_ , since they were meant to go to the aquarium?”

Regina cackles, “Sounds perfect.”

[:]

Somewhere right after Nemo’s mother is eaten, Regina feels another round of buzzing in her pocket. She figures it’s Cora trying one last time to reach her daughter before she gives up, but Regina gets a surprise when she looks at her phone screen.

There’s a voicemail.

Cora might be persistent in phone calls but she’s never left a voicemail in the many years it’s been since she and Regina had last spoken. Regina has half a mind just to delete it but it’s just so out of the ordinary, so she doesn’t. Instead, she gets up hopscotches around the mass of children sprawled out on the floor to get to Kathryn. She informs the blonde that she’s stepping out for a moment to check on something and Kathryn nods, never taking her attention away from the film.

Regina ducks out of the room, then, and clicks play on her mother’s voicemail.

“Hello, Regina, it’s your mother,” she coughs and Regina feels a tinge of worry for her mother even though she shouldn’t.

It’s weird hearing her voice after all this time. It sounds a lot like the voice she expected to hear. No matter how much time has passed, Regina can still hear her mother’s voice inside her head, a sound she could never forget. But this voice is still slightly different. First, it’s kinder, warmer, more maternal and Regina isn’t sure if it’s Cora faking it, to get her daughter’s attention, or if she’s actually softened over the years. But the biggest difference is that it’s scratchier and weaker, feeble like she’s got a bad case of the flu.

But it’s not the flu that has her mother sounding the way that she does.

“Regina, honey,” Cora starts delicately, “I’m going to cut right to the chase because I’m sure you’re already considering deleting this message, if you haven’t already. I don’t know how to put it any simpler, or better, than I’m dying, dear.” Her mother sighs. “I have stage 4 metastatic melanoma and I’ve stopped responding to treatments. The doctors say that I’ve got about six months, give or take a few. I know, I’ve hurt you, Regina, and you have every right to think to yourself that I deserve this and that you don’t want to see me.” She coughs again. “And I understand if you don’t wish to, but I’d love to see my daughter one last time and make amends before I go. Okay, I’m going to stop talking now, mostly because I’m tired, and also, because I’m not sure you’re still listening, but if you are, you can call me back, if you wish. If you don’t, just know I love you and I am truly sorry.”

Regina stares dumbly at a tile in the floor that’s a little darker than all the rest, an equal representation of how she feels, but it’s more like emptiness than darkness. The tears, however, tell another story. They finally win over her battle that was staving them off until now.

But Regina is stronger, because she knows she can’t cry in the middle of the hallway, so she pulls herself together the best she can, enough to make it to the teacher bathroom in the office. Going in the student bathrooms would inevitably lead to trouble for her.

When she’s locked in the bathroom, safe from any prying eyes, she tries to reassure herself that this could just be a ploy by Cora to get her to call. But Regina can feel in the pit of her stomach that, this time, that’s probably not the case. And she’s knows the exact way to find out.

It’s been at least a year, maybe longer, since Regina has called Mallory Draconis, but Mal is the only person with all the answers—Regina’s only tie left in Phoenix, besides her mother. Despite it being so long, it feels like riding a bike, dialing her old friend’s number. She doesn’t know exactly how Mal will respond when she figures out it’s Regina calling but the last time they spoke, they were still on well acquainted terms, so she imagines her friend will oblige her this once.

“Hello,” a chill voice comes through the receiver. She sounds like the same old Mal.

“Mal,” Regina sighs, the tears clear in her voice.

She can hear her friend hum quietly on the other end. And when Mal answers, her voice is condoling, “I was wondering when you’d call. Can’t believe that old bitch actually got through to you.”

“So it’s true?” Regina nibbles on her lip. Another nasty habit.

“I’m afraid so kid.”

Regina loses it then, breaking down into full tears streaming in a steady current down her face. She’s sure Mal can hear her because she hears a gentle apology coming from the other end.

“I’m so sorry, Regina. I really hate to do this, but I’ve got to get back to work, but maybe I’ll come and visit you this weekend. Or I’ll call again tonight. Look, if it makes you feel any better, that bitch got what was coming to her.” _Yeah, Mal, that certainly provides comfort._ “I know she’s your mom, but, Regina, she treated you like shit, and you don’t have to feel bad for her. Whatever you do, don’t beat yourself up over her illness. I really gotta run, but, I promise, we’ll talk about this soon.”

When Mal hangs up, Regina just watches herself unravel in the mirror. Her mother is dying. Cora is dying. She doesn’t know how to process it, though; she keeps repeating the words over and over in her head. All she can do is watch her face get redder and redder.

That is, until there’s a knock at the door. She startles, and attempts to pat at her face with some cold water, wiping beneath her eyes, as well.

“Just a minute!” she calls out.

_Just keep your head down and don’t make eye contact and they won’t notice._

She does just that as she opens the door, but her eyes immediately shoot up to the voice saying, “Of course, it’d be you hogging up the bloody loo.”

Of. Course.

Her red-rimmed eyes meet his clear blue ones and it takes mere milliseconds for him to know that something is wrong. “Regina?”

“I-” she tries but the tears make a threat.

“Not here,” he whispers, and he grabs her hand, tugging her toward the conference room.

When they get in, he closes and locks the door behind him. Then, his eyes are fast upon Regina, studying her with care but saying nothing.

She can barely get out, “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?”

“My kids are in activity,” he dismisses. “What’s wrong, Regina? What happened? Is this about your mum?”

That’s how the dam breaks.

Regina misses her mother, but she hates her all the same, and she can physically feel the hollow ache in her chest as the broken sobs start displaying her feelings for what they really are. Her chest divvies up the sounds in chunks but the tears run smoothly down her face. She hates crying, it’s such an obvious display of weakness and vulnerability, but more importantly, she hates her mother, absolutely loathes her and if hate had the power to move, Regina would singlehandedly deliver her mother straight to hell. Cora has done nothing but destroy Regina and she doesn’t deserve her daughter’s love. Cora doesn’t get the right to come crawling back to her daughter, trying to make amends for what she’s done. She burned her bridges a long time ago, and Regina isn’t going to be there to help her rebuild it. Cora has to do that first on her own and then Regina will still have to consider even crossing the damn bridge.

But for now she stands on her side of the river accompanied by someone she’s not exactly sure what she considers to herself and she mourns for the things she’s lost and the things she might be losing. And her company stands there and watches as her body collapses on itself, her head hangs, her shoulders droop and begin shaking to the convulsions in her chest, and her torso is bent in half as she tries to curl into herself. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t respond in anyway as she falls apart before him. She almost feels a pinch of anger at him for not moving to comfort her, for not taking her in his arms and whispering to her that it’s all going to be okay. But most of her anger is geared toward the fact that she’s vulnerable and he’s there, and as much as she hates Cora Mills with all her might, she’s spared a little bit of it for Robin. He’s wanted to see her weak and defenseless, he’s been prodding and probing subtly ever since they met. She’s certain that he had to have been waiting for this exact moment where she crumbles into pieces before his eyes. It feels as if it’s been a conspiracy against her all along.

So she stands there, shrouded in relative darkness crying in front of someone she hates.

There’s another round of buzzing in her pocket and she has half a mind to chuck her phone into the wall and watch it shatter into a million pieces. Perhaps, she could even aim it directly at Robin’s head and kill two birds with one stone. He’s certainly hardheaded enough to break it. She doesn’t know if he’ll respond, though, because at present he’s as still as a statue—one might even believe him to have been frozen, if not for the subtle rise and fall of his chest and the fluttering of his eyelids.

And they’re like that for a solid few minutes, with her trying to control her tears and force them back into the place she can usually keep them locked away in and failing miserably, and him just blinking and breathing. The air is thick, suffocating, and she can’t help but grasp at her chest and nearly dry heave to alleviate the chunks in her throat. She chooses to focus on Robin’s shoes—they’re these ugly taupe loafers, which are laced and reach just below his ankles. Her aversion to them almost pulls her out of her tears long enough to critique them, but her tears prove to be the more perseverant of the two and she continues to crumble. She tries to focus on the shoe, though, rather than the searing pain, rocketing through her chest. If she can just study every element of that disgustingly hideous shoe, she might be able to find enough inner emotional balance to stop crying. So she traces the outline of the shoe from the apex of the toe all the way back to the heel, until she’s calm.

“What do you want?” she can finally manage once her tears have given way to her composure.

He looks puzzled, starting with an, “I—”

But she cuts him off and finishes her statement to clarify, “From me. What do you want from me?”

He’s still confused, brows knit together and mouth shaped into a deep frown, but she doesn’t elaborate anymore this time. Instead, she watches him watching her, initiating a volleyball game of eye contact.

“Nothing,” he murmurs quietly, his confusion still dabbled in his features.

“You must want something!” she rages. “There has to be something you must want because you’re always here—always around when I don’t want you to be, so what is it? What is it that you want so much from me?”

Regina doesn’t even know if she believes all the slanderous things coming out of her mouth, but she can’t stop them, she can’t stop her agony from bleeding out onto Robin. And it works, she can see the words register to him and make their impact. He reacts in pain and almost looks contrite, as if her accusations hold some merit, and they do in the most basic way, because he is around all the time but it’s not because he wants to get something out of her. She knows this, deep down she knows it, but she’s poisoned her heart to believe the opposite—he’s just like all the rest, desperate for something, whether it’s gossip, or sex, or whatever—he wants something.

He believes it, too, but just briefly. The flame of guilt flickers before he snuffs it out, shaking his head a few times, and stepping toward Regina. But she knows how to dance in a box—he steps forward, she’ll step back.

“You want to know what I want?” She opens her mouth to speak, but she only releases a feeble noise before he cuts her off again. “To not see you like this.”

His voice is soft, a gentle whisper as he closes in on her, enticing the tears back to the forefront once more. But she doesn’t start sobbing this time, instead the tears well out and dribble frivolously down the apples of her cheeks.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” she quips.

He smirks and nods, taking another step. “Yes, what I meant was I want to help you _stop_ feeling like this.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“No,” he rebuffs her, “you _think_ you don’t need my help because you don’t _want_ my help. Little do you know that I’m probably the one thing you _need_.”

Regina scoffs loudly and goes for a retort but he’s quicker, plowing through to defend his point. “You wanna know why I’m here? It’s because no else is. Because these other people in your life follow your every whim. When you say stay, they stay. But then when you tell them to go, they’ll go. But I won’t. I never will. You know what you need Regina? You need someone who will tell you no, even when you don’t want to hear it. And that’s why I’m here. Because, Kathryn might do as you ask and Graham might do as you ask, but I won’t if I think that you need help. And you do, Regina. You need someone who’ll be there, even when you don’t want them to be.”

She can hear the sound of her molars grinding harshly against one another. It’s another habit her mother despised, especially when it was time for dentist office visits. Cora Mills did not like having a daughter with maimed teeth, but mostly, she didn’t like to hear it announced every time they went. Of course, then Regina got a mouth guard for grinding in her sleep but that didn’t stop the daytime habits. Though she’d learned to curb it as she grew up, there were times when she’d get upset enough to just fall right back into the pitfall of the horrible habit.

“First,” she growls, teeth still gritted, “don’t talk about Kathryn and Graham like you know them—”

“—I know them well enough to know that what I just said was the truth.”

“So what, you pride yourself on the ability to do the opposite of what I say? Congrats Cat in the Hat.”

“It’s the Things, actually,” he corrects her.

“What?”

“Thing 1 and Thing 2, they’re the ones who do the opposite of what you want.”

“That… is irrelevant,” she stumbles over herself, feeling them ebb back into the flow of their usual banter, where it feels almost homey and natural, but this time there’s an edge that provides discomfort.

“I don’t know. I mean you shouldn’t stray from the plot like that; it’s a bad habit.” She can tell he’s trying hard to bring the lightness back to their conversation but he can’t fight against the mounting tension.

“It’s creativity.”

“Or relative plagiarism.”

She grimaces. “I’m just glad to know you’re still reading on your appropriate reading level.”

He does that half laugh thing he always does, where he flashes a smile and then wets his bottom lip before holding it between his teeth. It’s natural for him, so much so that she’s sure he doesn’t even notice that he does it. But she does. Every time he’s done it, she’s taken extensive mental note of it.

Robin must notice that she has relaxed, at least a little bit, because he dares to take a step closer.

This time, she doesn’t move backward.

And when he reaches out toward her, she doesn’t move then either. Instead, she welcomes the gesture, allowing him to push her hair behind her ear and rest a palm against her cheek.

“Let me help,” he whispers tenderly, running his thumb across her damp cheek, her eyes closing as the caress beckons her.

She thinks to say yes, to spill all the secrets she’s hidden. But it’s too much; the burden is too much to give to another person. Robin doesn’t deserve the weight of her misgivings and her demons. And though he’s valiant and would take them on anyway, she can’t let him. It’s her cross to bear, her weight to carry.

Regina pulls away, turning her back to him and quietly muttering, “You can’t.”

She can hear him inhale before he answers with, “Why must you be so stubborn?” It isn’t said in an accusatory way but almost a patronizing curiosity.

“Why must you?” she counters, her voice shooting up a couple octaves. She sighs and reaches for the pencil on the conference room table, weaving it through her fingers to keep her hands busy. Her back stays, facing Robin as she continues, her eyes fixed only on the pencil. “Why can’t you leave well enough alone? And don’t feed me some crap about how you’re the only one who’ll say no. That’s about what I want and what I need. But what about you?” She finally turns back to him. “What is it that you want and what you need?”

He tries to answer but she talks over him, “Robin, if this is some ploy to try and finish what you were doing with Marian, it won’t work. I’m not her. You can’t fix what you had through me. It doesn’t work that way.”

Now, she falls silent and allows for him to speak, except it takes him a moment. He sort of just blinks perplexedly at her, at first. She wants to take the comment back now because she knows she probably crossed a line.

“Why,” the kindness has receded out of his voice, “are you so hurt, that you refuse to accept that I just want to help you? This isn’t about Marian, it’s about you!”

“But why?” she whisper-yells.

“Because I like you!” he roars back at the same volume, galloping forward with his exclamation.

The words echo off the walls, as his cry begins to garner meaning to them. Her eyes grow wild and her heart might have skipped more than just one beat. But, Robin, on the other hand, is shaking his head and waving his hands in front of his face.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly recants.

Her heart plummets back down to where it belongs and she can feel her face falter with the sensation.

He’s stammering now, lost in a jumble of words while she’s lost in the chaos of her thoughts. “I- I just meant that I like you as a person because you-“ he huffs, carefully calculating his words to avoid another blunder. “You _are_ beautiful. And witty and charismatic and funny and- and beautiful—”

“You already said that.” She takes a step this time.

“I know,” he chuckles nervously. “Because I want you to hear it, to _really_ hear it.” Her eyes are locked with his but his steps in time with his next sentence do not go unnoticed. “You. Are. Beautiful. And you deserve to know that. And you deserve to know how wonderful you are. I don’t know what happened with your mum, but you don’t deserve to feel this way. You only deserve to be happy. And you deserve someone who will tell you that. What I want is to be that person. But you have to let me in. You have to let me _be_ that person.”

The tears are welling once again, but for a newer reason and partially for the old. “Okay,” she answers softly, “Robin, you can have that. You can take me on adventures to clay pits and pull me into conference rooms and tell me I’m beautiful while cuddling on my couch watching _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_. You can have all of that. But not this, not Phoenix.” Her tears a falling now. “Phoenix is mine, okay? And that includes what all has happened with my mother. You can’t have Phoenix. Please, understand that.”

“Okay.” The gentle melody of his voice is back and his arms are enveloping her in a hug, one she doesn’t hesitate returning. “Okay,” he says again, “I won’t ask about Phoenix. And if ever I ask a question that’s too close to Phoenix, all you have to do is say Phoenix and I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

“Can I just say Phoenix whenever I want you to leave me alone, period?” she mumbles into his shoulder, which shakes with laughter in response.

“Sure,” he hums into her hair, “if that is what you want. But you know I’m obligated to say no.”

“I’d expect no less.”

“You’re certain you’re alright?” he asks her after a brief pause and presses a chaste kiss into her hair.

Their hug begins to unravel and she keeps her gaze pointed to floor. “I am. Thank you.”

“You’re sure?”

“Robin,” she sings, casting her eyes upward and feeling the catch in her throat. There are already a plethora of physical features that Regina has already acknowledged that she’s fond of, but she’s yet to have collected the one she’s discovering now. There is a glint in Robin’s eye, one that she’s not sure was there before. And that glint carries a big meaning, because it’s something Regina hasn’t seen meant for her in quite sometime, but she’d recognize it anywhere, it’s unmistakable—the look in his eyes is a look of love.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that Robin is in love with her or anything, but it does mean something, and Regina can feel her brain go into overdrive, trying to discern it. He did just say he doesn’t think of her in such a way but…

He doesn’t realize it’s there, though. He can’t see what she sees. Maybe, he doesn’t even know how he feels. Then again, neither does Regina. The more important question, anyway, is how she feels about the prospect of his feelings.

 _You have Graham_ , she tacitly reminds herself.

Robin can be the friend who looks out for her, just as it’s meant to be and what they both intend. Any kind of romance or anything else with Robin would simply be in her dreams—oh god, her dream!

She’s in too deep already, she thinks. Perhaps, the look in Robin’s eyes is actually a reflection of her own feelings. But she’s loyal to Graham, and wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. She just has a lot of feelings toward Robin because she’s grateful for all he’s done, that’s all. In fact, she’s going to call Graham as soon as this is over and prove it to herself. This is simply overreacting from immense gratitude, nothing more than that.

Regina is so lost in her own thought that she doesn’t notice him slipping her hands into his palms and gripping them tightly, that is, until his words bring her back, “Just promise me, okay?”

She fights her damned hardest against the will not to look him in the eye and swears, “I promise. Now, I’ve kept you long enough, you’re kids should be getting out of activity soon, so go.”

He holds her gaze for a moment longer, scanning her eyes, as if they’ll confess whether or not she’s truthful. Then he concedes without another word, and she watches him exit, taking one final glance at her before he leaves her to her own devices in the conference room.

Her hands are shaking terribly as she runs them through her hair, snagging on a few tangles along the way, which mimics her collection of all the information she’s gathered in the past hour. Her mother is dying and wants to make amends before she does. Robin is Robin and suddenly (or perhaps, not so suddenly) she’s overcome with some type of feeling about whatever he’s doing. And most importantly, right now she wants to forget about it, so she fishes her phone out of her pocket to find the one person who doesn’t know about her mother and doesn’t really know about Robin, save their one brief carline meeting, that has probably all but been forgotten by Graham.

He picks up on the second ring. “Regina,” he says as a greeting.

“Hey, you,” she answers nervously, her bottom lip trembling just slightly. Dear god, she thought the tears were done.

Graham must note her tone of voice because his response is gentler, “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry to call in the middle of the day,” she apologizes, feeling a rush of anxiety. “I know you’re probably busy, it’s just I’ve had a rotten day and I was hoping that maybe we could have an early dinner maybe talk…?”

“Oh, Regina.” His voice is regretful and she knows that means he’s about to say no. “I actually had plans with the guys,” he waits for a beat before adding, “but, I mean, I can always cancel.”

She can hear it in his voice, though, how he’d give just about anything not to cancel so quickly rejects his offer. “It’s okay, maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” the gentle tone is back and it almost pities, “definitely tomorrow. Text me what you want and I’ll cook, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Regina,” he says just before she’s considering hanging up without a proper goodbye, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I just need a break, that’s all, I think. Maybe I’m coming down with something.” Then her tone shifts to a hastier one, trying to pawn it off like she’s fine and really in a rush to get off the phone. “Anyway, I gotta go, gotta get back to that teacher thing, you know? I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, Regina.”

“Tomorrow,” she vows, and then her phone is in her pocket and she’s returning back to her spot on the carpeted floor in Kathryn’s classroom, finding herself oddly jealous of an animated Blue Tang fish with short term memory loss.

[:]

She’s staring at his drawing, his stupid dumb drawing that she really wants to shove into her garbage disposal and listen to it be eaten up into mulch. As she leans against her wooden cutting board and sips on her beer—she hates beer, always has, not to mention her mother absolutely abhorred the idea of her daughter smelling like a distillery and made sure that Regina was painfully aware of it—Regina aches to rage against something, to seek revenge for the hollow panging in her chest. She can’t fight her father because he’s dead. She can’t fight her mother because she’s dying and Cora would only end up making her feel worse. She can’t fight Graham because he’s all but entirely absent from her life and she’s already getting decent payback by drinking the beer in her hand that technically belongs to him. And then there’s Robin, who she’s already had it out with once today and but she still feels angry at.

Except, this time it’s a new anger. This time she feels a wanton pull, one that has her eyeing his picture and not thinking for a second of Rocinante but of only Robin. She’d meant what she’d said earlier at the lunch table. She hates him, but not in the way that people typically hate each other, with venomous thoughts against their wellbeing and the desperation to destroy everything about the person that they hate. Instead, she hates him because she feels the opposite. Today, he confessed that he wanted her to be happy and that he wanted to protect her, and today she had realized that she had the exact same sentiments towards him. She might be shit at showing it and she might not have exactly known that’s how she feels but she does. And now, she can’t help but stew in her need to give him the same person who will make sure that he’s happy and taken care of even when he doesn’t want it.

It’s strange how the decision all comes together in her head, like a puzzle that she’s just moving around the pieces for randomly, until they finally click together, purely by accident. But as soon as they’re together, everything seems to make sense. She sets the bottle of beer that she’s been unconsciously twirling between her fingers beside her hip onto the counter and walks closer to the picture. She observes the terribly shaggy sketch lines and shoddy coloring on the paper, how it doesn’t look much like Rocinante at all, but those things don’t matter. Despite it’s imperfections, it’s one of the most perfect thing she owns. It’s a gift, not given out of expectation for something in return or for praise, just a gift out of the kindness of his heart.

And what has she done? What has she given Robin? He’d told her friendship was something he deeply valued but even with that she’d been stubborn and unrelenting. So what has she truly given him just out of pure goodness?

He took her to coffee. He bought her a drink and took her home. He drew her a picture. He won her the adoration of Principal Nolan. He took her on an adventure and made sure she was warm and cared for. He helped her with the kids at her apartment. And today he did what no one else had ever done—he cared.

Then, she’s decided. She’s going to do it—she is going to march her ass straight to Robin Locksley’s door and finally return the favor. There’s no telling exactly what will unfold after that but she knows what she wants and that’s what she plans to get.

She just hopes he’s planning for the same thing.

[:]

Regina doesn’t know why she’s out of breath when she makes it to the front door, it’s not like she’s been running, but she’s panting anyway. She tries to gain her composure, enough to enter and scope out the lobby. Her apartment doesn’t really have a lobby, but his is nice, for an apartment complex anyway. There’s deep stained hardwood flooring and cozy little linen lounge chairs off in the far corner.

She’s made it—well, sort of, she still has to actually get to _his_ door.

Then it finally registers that she doesn’t exactly know where that is. Fortunately for her, there are people congregated in the lobby, chattering with one another, most of them younger but a few around her age and one older man. At least one of them has to know where Robin lives. Then again, she doesn’t know where most people in her complex live, aside from those who live around her. But, it’s the only shot she’s got besides calling Robin up and awkwardly telling him that she’s down in his lobby, waiting to find someone who knows where he lives so that she can come up to see him. Oh god, this is ridiculous, she shouldn’t have come. But, she’s all this way now, there’s no point in turning back.

So she sets off, asking around if any of the tenants knew where Robin Locksley stayed, but everyone came up unhelpful. The only piece of information she got was from a very short man with white hair and glasses that said Robin stayed with a John, but he wasn’t sure what his exact room number was, just that he was on the third floor. She can’t very well go knocking on every door on the third floor, desperately trying to find some guy. _It’s time to call it quits_ , she admonishes, _you’re being silly and it’s not like it’s a life or death situation, Regina._ So she obliges herself, but not before scanning the room one last time for any sliver of hope that might lead her to Robin.

Seeing, none, she haphazardly makes her way to the door, not noticing the gigantic man passing her on her way in, the man who, had she waited and spoken to, would’ve told her all she needs to know. But thankfully, the white-haired man she had spoken to is able to bridge the gap between the two, leading the gigantic man back out of the building that he’d just entered out into the street where Regina is rustling in her bag for her keys, not even paying mind to the two men walking to her.

It isn’t until the white-haired man is right in front of her that she pops her head up to notice.

“Miss?”

“Yes?” she replies politely with a smile, glancing between the two.

“This is John Little, he’s the roommate of the man you’re looking for.” The bigger man extends a beefy hand to her, which she takes and introduces herself.

As the smaller man departs, the panic sets in upon realizing that she has to explain to Robin’s roommate why she’s there. But she’s devoid of a good reason, so she tries to steer the conversation away from giving reasons. Instead, she simply tells him that she was looking for Robin to talk about something and is just wondering if he’s home.

“No,” he tells her simply. “He’s at the Rabbit Hole, actually. Or at least I assume he still is, he was pretty taken with this blonde before I left.”

She frowns. The Rabbit Hole? On a school night? Robin and some blonde?

As Regina goes crestfallen, he realizes it’s not the best thing to say and quickly amends his previous statement, “I just mean they seemed to be in… deep conversation, so he might be awhile. You can come up and wait for him if you’d like, and if it’s an emergency, I’m sure I could call him.”

She feels even stupider now that she basically staked out his apartment and his roommate is offering to let her stalk him a little longer.

“No, no,” she smiles awkwardly, “that’s quite alright. I’ll just catch him tomorrow or something.”

“You sure? I mean it’s no problem really to call.”

God, she’s so embarrassed. “No, it’s fine, I have to go anyway. Thanks for all your help.”

Regina starts to jet towards her car, blindly scooping her keys out of her purse this time.

John is calling after her again, “Hey! Do you want me to tell him you stopped by?”

She turns around but doesn’t yell because there’s not that much space between them, a fact he must not realize, given his volume. “No, please don’t. It’s fine, I’ll just talk to him tomorrow.”

He doesn’t get to say anything else because she rounds the front of her car, rips open the door, slides into the driver’s seat, and cranks the car, all in one fell swoop. And then she’s pulling out into the street, looking in her rear view mirror, to watch John re-enter the building.

It’s not until she reaches the first red light that she lets her mortification consume her. She should’ve never gone to his apartment. It was foolish of her. And now his roommate is going to tell him that she stopped by, which means she’s going to need a decent excuse, but that can be decided on when she’s tossing and turning later on in bed.

Right now, though, she needs a distraction. Graham is unavailable and Robin is off talking up some pretty blonde, so she does something she’ll more than likely regret. She calls up Kathryn, who, upon hearing Regina’s proposal for dinner and drinks, immediately accepts.

“This is so unlike you, Regina, I’m impressed,” Kathryn surmises.

She’s been unlike herself for sometime, now. In fact, Regina doesn’t even remember the last time she felt like the authentic Regina Mills. Maybe before Robin? Maybe before Cora molded her some more after college? Maybe after that fateful year in Phoenix that changed everything for her?

That doesn’t matter, now, though, because she wants to forget Regina Mills, altogether, and that sure as hell means forgetting Cora, Graham, Robin, Mal, and anyone else who’s tried to get to the core of Regina Mills. Tonight, she just wants a normal Girls’ Night Out and a chance to erase this day at least for a little while.

“Just call the others and see if they wanna go out, okay?”

“Okay…” Kathryn drawls. “Regina, are you okay?”

“I will be.”

Or at least some version of Regina Mills will be.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Long time, no see, huh? Well, have no fear, I have returned! And on a special day, no less. Today is Study Hall’s anniversary! I can’t believe it’s been a whole year since I first published this little old thing. I want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and being patient through the many months without it. You guys make this story and I’m eternally in your debt for keeping it going. I know things have been rough for our fandom this year but I very much hope that you will continue not to just read Study Hall, but all Outlaw Queen fanfics.   
> Outlaw Queen is ours now. So let’s keep their story alive.  
> Hope you enjoy!

She’s beautiful. There’s no empirical evidence to refute it.  From her luscious blonde ringlets to her hot pink skintight bodycon dress, the woman sitting several feet away from Robin is gorgeous—well, and a little terrifying. Honestly, judging by her well-toned arms and calves, she looks like she could take him down with one arm behind her back. Not to mention, her shoes are practically a weapon themselves.

But Robin doesn’t really care about how beautiful she is. In fact, there’s really only one woman that’s on his mind at the moment. Now, that of course, is the case for more reasons than one. Just earlier, he’d all but admitted how he feels about her. Although, technically he did reveal his feelings, but managed to cover for them, hopefully leading Regina away from the scent of his overbearing emotions towards her.

He’d pretty much come to terms with it the moment that he woke up with her resting peacefully in his arms. The feeling he had was indiscernible because he knew as he looked down on the slumber-induced body that he had cocooned in his arms, that that was the life he wanted. He wanted late night movies and wine and falling asleep on the couch together, enveloped in each other’s warmth. It wasn’t a difficult choice to make; rather, it wasn’t much of a choice at all. And it’s not like it was a sudden change of character. That feeling had been prodding at him for some time, nosing him like a dog desperate to play fetch, and it finally made it’s way through, and Robin wasn’t the slightest bit surprised by the revelation.

Unfortunately for him, it’s not as simple as realizing his feelings. If anything, it just makes the mire of his relationship with Regina more complicated. Before any clearing can be found, he has to know _her_ feelings, not just about him, but about herself, too. But, to him, at least, there is no question. He’s crazy about her, probably has been for some time now, and doesn’t plan on letting that feeling go. And _that_ he’s made perfectly clear by not paying any mind to the slew of women who’ve come up to chat or, perhaps, get a drink out of him.

His focus is solely on the blonde, which is the other reason his mind is filled with Regina Mills.

His goal for the evening had only been to come out for one beer, maybe two depending on how he was feeling after the first, and then grab something to eat with John before returning home. But as soon as the blonde caught his eye, his plans were immediately shot straight to hell.

He’s been eyeing her for sometime now, has all but tuned John out completely. Though, he knows his friend is sounding off about his latest “conquest,” or something of that nature, so he’s able to nod every now and again to the vague sound cues he gets, all while focusing on this blonde.

She seems respectable, too, not the ditzy type that twirls her hair in her finger mindlessly while she flirts with some daft bastard who won’t remember her name the next day. No, this one is smart and cunning and more than her well kept exterior, but that’s all irrelevant to him.

In fact, Robin’s primary focus isn’t on the blonde at all, but rather, the many sitting with her, drinking his whiskey and eyeing her greedily. It makes his stomach churn in the worst way and damn near gives him enough courage to get up and give him a right good pasting in front of everyone in the Rabbit Hole. He deserves it, anyway, not just because of the way he’s currently devouring the woman beside him but the fact that he’s even there.

For the man, that Robin is now keenly watching is the man who’s supposed to be Regina’s significant other, Graham.

Graham hasn’t spotted Robin, nor does Robin even think that Graham knows he’s being watched. He’s not even sure Graham would recognize him, given that they only met in passing a few days ago. But that doesn’t mean that Robin plans to waltz his way over to where the twosome is sitting. He will sit and watch stealthily, though, from his seat in opposite corner of the bar.

He can tell there’s chemistry between them. He should know well enough because usually he’s in Graham’s position and he can tell when the woman is really into him. And this woman is _really_ into Graham. And it’s pretty clear the feeling is mutual.

They’re talking animatedly and they’re certainly leaned into one another, suggesting the attraction between them. They each have an arm on the bar top, but they aren’t touching. However, Robin veers his head just enough at one point to see that Graham’s other hand is resting on the blonde’s knee with her hand resting atop it.

He feels a white hot anger rush to the surface of his skin, but he knows he has to relax. He can’t very well go give the guy a few punches without publicizing the whole affair and getting kicked out of the Rabbit Hole, which will surely raise questions from John. And what would his answers be? That he’s pining after some woman who may or may not extend the same sentiment, and he wants to destroy the man who will inevitably hurt her?

He wonders if the woman knows. He wonders if she knows she’s helping the destruction of another woman or if she’s just innocently falling in love with the same man, who’s fooling them both. That much, he’s determined to find out tonight.

And that, he will.

So he waits and bides his time, watching as they move in closer, as gentle touches turn to tender kisses. Graham is pushing back the blonde’s hair and kisses her neck. She laughs but Robin can’t tell if it’s because of the kissing or because of something else Graham said.

This goes on for a full 42 minutes before things change. Graham is getting up and whispering something to the woman, which she nods to in answer and he pecks her cheek then departs. He’s heading toward the restrooms, which always have a long line because there’s only one stall. Robin takes it as a blessing and swoops his way down the bar to the woman at the end, telling John, he’ll catch up with him later.

It’s time to get answers.

“Now,” he drawls as he approaches the woman. She swivels her head around as he finishes, “What kind of man leaves a woman nearly empty like this?”

She raises her eyebrows, and then bites on a smile. Good, she’s a flirter, or at least, likes flirts, which he excels at. “I guess he was hoping some hot shot would come in and do his job for him while he’s gone. Do you just talk the talk or do you walk the walk, too?” She gestures down to her beer with a nod.

“Oh, of course,” he signals the barkeep.

Robin stealthily reads the boy’s badge, “Sean, my man, my lady here will have a—”

“Boston Lager and get my friend here,” she scrunches up her nose, “a Corona on tap.”

The boy nods but Robin catches him before he scurries away, “Get me a Sierra Nevada, mate.”

“You got it,” the kid nods.

“Got a thing against Mexico’s finest?” she teases.

He scoffs, “Trust me, that isn’t their finest.”

“Oh, you’d know?” Her interest is piqued.

“Yeah, been there twice.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, father’s ‘business trips.’” He can hear the distaste in his own voice and it makes him cringe.

“Daddy issues?” the woman deduces.

Robin smiles and laughs out of his nose. “Oh, he has issues alright.”

The woman chuckles in response. She seems like a nice woman and he feels bad for insidiously trying to guilt her. Her humor reminds him of Regina and he’s a quick thought that he understands why Graham is fond of both of them. Of course, that doesn’t excuse him for being a jackass but he sees the reason behind the interest.

Sean gives them their drinks and the blonde immediately takes a sip of hers. After she carefully sets her bottle down, she speaks, “So do you often tell random strangers about your life?”

“Isn’t that how meeting up in bars works?”

She looks down at her bottle. “And here I though that you bought this drink to try and seduce me.”

He fakes offense, “Well, I’d never. I _am_ a gentleman.”

“You know he’s coming back right?” She jabs her thumb toward the restrooms.

“I know,” he sips his ale. “I’m just keeping you company until then.”

“Oh, how _gentlemanly_ of you.”

“So—” he pauses, “pardon, I haven’t gotten your name.”

“Emma,” she gives willingly. “And what’s yours, English?”

“Robin,” he says with an extension of his hand, which she gives a single, measured shake.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” He nods. “So, Emma, you two been together long?”

She begins to play with the neck of the bottle and something changes in her demeanor. He can tell he’s offset her somehow and he feels that twinge of guilt again.

“No, we’ve only just started seeing each other.”

“You sound like it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.”

She shrugs. “It’s not. It’s just… complicated.”

“I’m listening,” he tells her intently.

“So, what? I get a free therapy session with a free beer?”

“Yes, that’s how we therapists have decided to go about therapy these days.”

He knows he needs to stop playing around and fish for the point. She’s not going to spell it out for him. But, ironically, flirting is usually his way of getting to the point. But he just needs to hear her say it. That either she knows Graham is cheating or she doesn’t because then that will entirely determine how he will handle the situation. But his goal is clear—Regina is going to find out one way or another that Graham is cheating on her.

“Well,” she huffs. “If you must know, doctor, it’s because we aren’t really together.”

She knows. And suddenly his opinion on the woman changes. He doesn’t even know her and he hates her. Sure, the woman probably has no fealty to Regina, but as a woman, shouldn’t she have the courtesy not to leave the other out to dry?

It takes all he has to appear unfazed. “Why’s that?”

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” She shakes her head. “But it’s because he’s… seeing someone else.”

“Ahhhh,” he exhales hopefully selling that he hasn’t known all this time that that was what she was going to confess.

But even though he did know it, when the truth finally comes out, he feels another tickle of anger rise to the surface. He thinks of poor Regina, who’s sitting at home, none the wiser that Robin is hearing, with his own ears, that Graham is cheating on her with some leggy blonde, who knowingly joined in on the act of adultery. He’s half a mind to tell Emma that he knows Graham and that he very well knows Regina and plans to inform her immediately what’s been going on. But then he thinks on how that will leave Regina feeling ambushed and ruined for more than one audience and she doesn’t deserve that kind of undignified destruction. She deserves to make the final blow. So, that means Robin has to play it cool, pretend that he’s a completely uninterested third party, and then tell Regina the truth. But that certainly doesn’t mean he can’t give Emma a bit more of a guilt trip before Graham gets back.

“Save your judgment,” she mutters bitterly.

He hadn’t realized he’d looked judgmental. “No judgment, but can I ask why?”

“Why? Why am I willingly fooling around with Graham when he’s in a committed relationship?”

“Yes.”

“Because,” she sighs, “he doesn’t feel anything with her! Or—she doesn’t feel anything with him! I don’t know! She doesn’t love him, okay?”

Robin’s opinion once again shifts about the woman when he sees the tears well in her eyes. Perhaps, he misjudged her. But she’s still cheating. It isn’t right, she has to see that, right?

“And you do?” he surmises.

Emma goes to say something then closes her mouth and simply answers with a shrug.

“Why don’t you tell him how you feel?”

“It’s not that easy. He doesn’t get it.”

“Then why stay?” he really tries to get her attention now, but she is fixated on the bottleneck. “Why make yourself the other woman when you could tell him to shove off and not be such a prat?”

She bites her lip and stays silent. The question didn’t really need an answer, anyway. He already knows it.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he feels sorry for her. Maybe if he really was an uninterested third party he’d be able to feel sympathy for the woman but with Regina’s heart on the line, he can’t risk that. And then he feels something else in the pit of his stomach, but it isn’t anger or sympathy; some might call it butterflies, but either way, it’s jittery and weird to him. He tries to ignore it but it lingers, weakening as he studies Emma but every time he thinks of Regina the surge of feeling comes back with a vengeance.

“You can’t stay like that forever, you know?” he reminds her, diligently trying to find a way to finish their conversation.

“I know,” she says solemnly.

“Tell the truth, then. Tell him he’s gotta pick, you or her.”

“Don’t you think if he wanted to pick me, he would have left her already?”

He takes that as a bit of a sucker punch. She isn’t wrong. He can’t imagine that feeling. “So, leave him. You can do better than that.” He reaches out for her without thinking and brushes her arm.

She finally meets his gaze. “I know. I wish I didn’t care about him the way I do.”

“At least you know there’s another woman,” he reprimands softly. “There’s another lady out there with no idea that you’re here right now, talking to some stranger about what an arsehole her boyfriend is.”

He can see her take it to heart and the complete guilt that washes over her face brings _him_ another pang of guilt.

“You think I should tell her?” she looks at him ruefully.

“Do you?”

She muses, and then nods slowly. “I do.”

He thinks to maybe confess again. Maybe this time join Emma in on the conspiracy, but again, that might lead to Regina feeling ambushed. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Emma to confess. It should be him, a friend, someone she can trust. Or maybe it’d be better for her to hear it from someone she won’t be fond of, then he can play just as stupid as he is now and be a shoulder to cry on.

Either way, Emma is set on telling the truth. Now, he has to make a decision on who Regina should hear it from first.

“Good for you,” he smiles politely and touches her arm once more. “You’re doing the right thing.”

She reaches across herself and places her hand on top of his. “Thank you, Robin,” she tells him genuinely.

“You’re welcome. Good luck, Emma.”

She nods and pats his hand for one, good, final measure and then he leaves her, skirting his way back down the other end of the bar where he pays Sean.

He checks his phone as he’s walking out of the Rabbit Hole and sees three missed calls from John and two texts inquiring of his whereabouts.

He texts back, _Leaving the RH, need something?_

But the old oaf doesn’t text back, so he assumes he’s fallen asleep again. He hopes it isn’t important.

[:]

Robin wakes up with a weird feeling lingering in his stomach. It’s guilt mixed with something else that he hasn’t quite gotten the taste of. But he knows the feeling is nothing good because he’s carrying the burden of a secret that he has to decide if he wants to share or let someone else share. But, no matter what, Regina Mills is going to end up hurt today and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it except watch in horror as it unfolds.

He’s already picturing Regina’s face, her eyes filled with betrayal, her mouth fixed in a frown and the heart on her sleeve broken in two. He has to tell her, at least then he can care for her. Not to mention, he knows now that he wants very much to care for her. He pictures himself holding her and telling her that everything will be okay, that he’s there now for her and he will take care of everything. It’s foolish and he knows he’ll only get his heart broken this way, but he’s all in.

He reaches for his phone first, before he’s even fully out of bed. He finds his conversation with Regina and types out a message, _Hey, can I see you before school this morning?_

He’s learned that “Hey we need to talk” is not a good text to send ever.

She doesn’t reply so he assumes she’s still asleep or trying to get ready for work, but as he goes through his entire morning routine and he still doesn’t get an answer from her, he begins to worry.

 _You there?_ he sends after he’s dressed and nearly ready to go.

Robin scans his room for his shoes while he waits, then remembers he left them by the door. As he paces into the living room, he finds John, sitting on the couch, watching the telly. Robin furrows his brow. This morning keeps getting weirder.

“Hey, mate,” he greets his roommate, “you’re up rather early.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, spending the day with my girlfriend.”

Robin is stunned, as this is news to him. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah man, I told you last night. I’ve been seeing this woman Jack, and I really like her.”

“A woman named Jack?” he tries not to laugh.

“Yes, Jack Bean, she’s a woman, you dick.”

“Interesting,” Robin jests with a smug expression.

“Fuck off, man”

“I’m only joking around. So you’re spending the day with her then?”

“Yeah, we’re headed up to Santa Fe Plaza to see this little band she likes then we’ll get dinner, and you know...”

“Sounds nice,” Robin attempts to sound sincere, not meaning that he isn’t happy for his friend but he isn’t feeling right himself so he doesn’t feel right about much of anything.

Robin finishes putting on his shoes before heading back to his room to get his phone and wallet, the ever-present hope beating wildly in his chest that Regina has answered his texts.

“Oh hey, Rob,” John calls after him, “some chick came by here yesterday looking for you. I meant to tell you.”

Robin doesn’t even check his phone and returns to the living room. “What?”

“Some woman came by she was looking for you.”

“What did she look like? Did she tell you her name?” The panic rises in his throat.

“I dunno,” John answers calmly, “dark hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, beautiful. No, she wouldn’t give me her name.”

“Damn it,” Robin curses beneath his breath. “Did she look upset or anything?”

John shrugs and Robin feels a growing agitation for his roommate. “I don’t really remember. She looked a little sad I guess. I tried calling you man. I told her you might’ve still been busy with the blonde you were so caught up in before I left.”

That’s when Robin loses it. “You told her what?!”

“I know, I shouldn’t have said that to her but it kinda just came out.”

Robin groans and scrubs the front of his face with his palms. “Did she say anything else?” He doesn’t bother hiding his irritation anymore.

“No, just that she’d talk to you, well, today.”

Robin squeezes the bridge of his nose between his middle finger and thumb. He feels a headache coming on, which is such a pleasant addition to the sickening feeling he already has churning in the pit of his stomach. He marches back to his room then again, unable to look at John without risk of letting out his frustration. He grabs his phone, checking and finding no response still from Regina, which is no surprise now.

He texts her one last time _, Regina, please, I need to speak with you ASAP._

Then he makes his way toward the door.

“I’m sorry, man,” John calls after him.

Robin turns. “It’s alright,” he says but he knows he still sounds annoyed. “Can I ask you something quickly before I go?”

“Sure man, what’s up?” John mutes the television.

Then Robin spills his guts. He rapid fire tells John everything, about Graham and Regina and Emma. And then he finishes with his dilemma, stuck on what is right and what is wrong and what he should do to fix the situation. But it’s more than just that, he realizes during his testimony. He’s wrestling incessantly with his feelings for Regina and how this situation affects that. He leaves it out though. At least, he doesn’t blatantly confess his feelings but he’s sure that they’re etched into some of the things he says on accident.

You can’t hide what you feel.

John chuckles loudly, “Usually it’s me asking for the advice. Look, dude, if you care for this woman, which it sounds like you really do,” (Oh, great), “then you need to tell her the truth. If she hates you for it, she hates you for it, but at least, then she’ll know, and that can be forgiven. But if you lie to her and she finds out she’ll never forgive you.”

“I don’t want her to hate me.”

“Well, then make that clear. Maybe don’t tell her exactly how you feel right now, since that’s a bit insensitive but make sure she knows you really care and you’re just looking out for her.”

Robin looks at his friend, impressed. “You’re a changed man, John Little.”

“Blame love,” he says. “Now, go and save face with your girl.”

“She isn’t mine.”

“Yet.”

[:]

He calls her on the way there but there’s no answer, which leaves him no choice but to make a beeline for her classroom as soon as he gets there. As he walks, he carefully conjures up what he plans to say. There’s a gigantic lump in his throat and he’s certain he’s going to be sick but he has to be honest. This is for the best. He takes a deep breath as he rounds the corner, and then is faced with her open door. However, as he looks in, he’s surprised to find someone that isn’t Regina standing in her place.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah, I’m looking for Reg—Miss Mills,” he tells her nervously.

“Oh, she called in sick. I’m the sub, Guinn. Is there something you needed from her? Maybe I can find it for you?”

“Oh, no, no,” Robin denies quickly. “It’s okay, I’ll just call her about it. Thank you and nice to meet you. I’m Robin, Kindergarten teacher.”

“Nice to meet you, as well, Robin.”

Of course, Regina would bail on school the next day. For some reason, as he leaves her classroom, he finds himself totally unsurprised that this has happened. It’s just so like Regina to not be here when he needs her to be, like her own magical way of getting under his skin without even trying.

He finds out later from Kathryn, whom he sees in the office, that Regina had went on a pretty heavy drinking binge last night when they went to dinner. She’d gotten pretty ill and Kathryn assumed that Regina stayed home to recover from her poor choices. Robin feels immensely guilty because he could have prevented it, had he been home instead of stalking her boyfriend at the Rabbit Hole.

He’s decorated with worry for the rest of the day. He can’t think of anything else, save Roland Cassidy’s absence, but otherwise, his mind is only preoccupied with Regina’s wellbeing. He calls once after Kathryn fills him in, another time at lunch and another time at activity. His phone is almost out of battery and he‘d forgotten the blasted charger because he was, once again, so worried about her.

He’s nervous and can’t think straight. He starts to worry that maybe she threw up in her sleep, or something, and choked on her vomit.

It’s not long after the activity call that he decided that he’s going to call on her after school at her apartment. He has to make sure she’s okay.

He’d hoped that the decision would level his anxiety about it a little, but it only puts him further on edge.

Before the school day comes to a close, he texts her one last time, _Regina, I’m not sure why you aren’t answering, but I’m really worried so I’m coming by to check up on you._

He hopes it would draw her out, that she’d, at the very least, tell him not to show up, that she’s perfectly alright and that she can very well take care of herself in the ornery way that she always does. But not even that brings her out.

Something is wrong and he knows it.

 [:]

His phone has died but he’s called several times at this point and left a message. At this rate, Robin is just hoping he finds Regina alive. She won’t answer her bloody phone and he’s been worried absolutely sick since Kathryn told him about their night. He should have been there for her. And frankly if he finds her dead in the next five minutes, he’ll never forgive himself.

_God, Regina, please be alive._

He knocks once, then again after a moment of silence. When he knocks a third time, he announces his presence, “Regina, it’s Robin. I know you’ve been avoiding my calls but I just want to make sure you’re okay and if you don’t answer in the next minute or so I’ll be forced to break down your door.”

He listens then, but only more silence follows and Robin wonders if maybe she isn’t home, but Kathryn had said that Regina did get legitimately sick last night, which, of course, was due to an excessive intake of alcohol but that’s not important to him now. All that matters is that Regina is okay.

“Regina?” He tries one last time. When there’s no response, he presses onward, “Okay, you leave me no choice…”

He waits a short second before shouldering the door. Then again. And again.

His pushing is so loud that he almost doesn’t hear her voice on the other side announce, “I hope that shoulder hurts like hell tomorrow.”

Then she opens the door just as he’s ramming it once again and he nearly falls into her. He grasps at air as he stumbles until he finally catches his balance in the doorframe. His gaze then falls on Regina who looks terribly disheveled and exhausted. She’s standing in a big, bulky Lobos baseball t-shirt, which he assumes is Graham’s and leggings (which only leads him to thinking about how great her bum looks in them). Her dark hair is pulled up into a half-arsed bun (she’s still incredibly beautiful with her hair thrown up like that) and her face is nearly free of cosmetics.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he notes, nodding toward her.

She rolls her eyes, heavily unamused. “Aren’t you about to lose your sight with two black eyes,” she counters coolly.

Robin’s eyebrow jets up to his hairline. “Good to know your snark is still there.”

“What do you want, Robin?” she asks grimly, looking more exasperated the longer she stands there.

“I came to check on you,” he answers simply.

“I’m a 31 year old woman, I think I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Well, Kathryn said you weren’t feeling well, so I just came to follow up. Don’t be so bloody ungrateful.”

She looks offended, then, as though he’s in the wrong. “I don’t have to be grateful for your presence, you know. I know that you’re used to thinking that everyone is, but I hate—well, actually I don’t really hate—to be the one to tell you, that that isn’t the case for everyone.”

“’S that what you came to tell me yesterday, when you came to the apartment then?” he fires back. He’ll never understand why she has to be so ruddy pessimistic all the damn time.

She doesn’t answer his question and just sighs as a response. When he doesn’t try anything else, she concaves a little, as if trying to bury herself within her own body. She appears to not be in the mood for games and she makes that clear by exhaling, “Look, Robin, I’m hungover and I just wanna go back and lie down, so what is it that you want?”

He can’t resist, “In general or?”

She sighs very audibly, but refuses a verbal answer.

“John said you called on me at the apartment last night.”

“Yeah, no big deal.”

“Why didn’t you stay?”

Regina’s eyes shift to the ground, “It wasn’t that important.”

“It was important enough for you to stop by,” he retaliates measuredly. “You could’ve rang me.”

“It wasn’t anything I couldn’t have said at school the following day.”

“Apparently not,” he jokes, “given your lack of attendance today.”

She doesn’t directly respond to his comment. “Besides, you were preoccupied according to your friend.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard that John told you. It’s not what you think, Regina, honestly. Can I come in?”

Regina hesitates, very visibly debating whether or not she wants to be bothered by his extended presence. She shifts from her left foot to her right as she mulls it over and he waits patiently, counting the number of times she bounces between her feet.

After what seems like extremely careful deliberation, she concedes. “Fine, but I hope you don’t mind that I lie down. And excuse the mess.” She pushes the door open and allows him entrance.

The meaning of mess in Regina’s vocabulary is far different than what Robin’s is. When she had said mess, he expected to see trash lying around (perhaps wrappers of something), empty plates and cups sitting on the table, which would be garnished with several used tissues and clothes lying about all over the floor. He’d assumed there would be an actual mess. But as he makes his way into her apartment and scans the room, he doesn’t find much out of place. There are two glasses on the table. One is empty and placed next to a bottle of whiskey, while the other is full of water.

“I see the festivities continued after you returned home?” he references the whiskey.

She simply shrugs and grunts, faintly acknowledging the bottle before plopping down on the couch.

“You know, I might’ve misjudged you, Mills. I think I’ve seen you drinking more than I’ve seen you sober,” he tries another joke as he continues to stand, burying his hands in his pockets and scoping out the apartment.

“Yes, funny how my drinking habits have increased since you came into my life,” she retorts. “Are you going to sit down or are you just going to stand there like a lost animal?”

Robin laughs, “Usually women have most of my clothes off before they start calling me an animal.”

Regina scoffs, rolling her red-rimmed, swollen eyes once again.

That’s when he sees it. How had he not noticed when he first walked in? Regardless, it’s clear to him now that Regina had been crying. He’d thought that the black staining on her lids was due to her drunken state last night but now it’s clear as day what the real reason is. He can feel his heart lurch in his chest in the worst possible way as he watches her. He doesn’t move. And she continues to look quizzically at him until she realizes what he sees. Her face flushes and she finally looks elsewhere, anywhere but at him.

“Regina,” he starts in a warning tone because he can already feel her retreating.

Her mouth twists hurtfully to one side and he can tell she’s biting back tears.

“Regina,” he calls again, daring her to look at him. But when she won’t, he does all he can do. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she bites. “Just sit down, Robin… please.”

So he sits, opposite of where her head lies, while the rest of her is sprawled out. She moves her feet slightly so that he can sit even though they barely could touch him, curling them upward against her leg. But he grabs them instead, settling purposefully so that her feet rest in his lap. He says nothing but just picks up her right foot and begins to knead it. He doesn’t know why, he just does. Truthfully, it was simply reaction for him. He used to do the same with Marian when she was upset.

But he doesn’t get to take care for long before Regina snatches her foot away, nearly squealing and almost kicking him in the chin. “What are you doing?!”

“Well, I was trying to help you relax but—”

“I have very ticklish feet.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, you can continue but be gentle—or actually, don’t be. That way you don’t tickle them—and _don’t_ tickle them, Robin, or I will kick you in the teeth without a second thought,” she warns him darkly.

He nods and then takes her foot back in hand, continuing to rub it, while she closes her eyes peacefully. They don’t speak for a little while. The only sounds are the low hum of the television, which is settled on a rerun of that hospital drama everyone is obsessed with, and the louder roar of the swamp cooler.

He doesn’t even notice that Regina has fallen asleep for a good ten minutes, not until he goes to tell her that he needs to tell her something. But when he glances over and sees the steady and peaceful rise and fall of her chest, he places her feet carefully back on the sofa before getting up and walking around, constantly checking behind him to be sure she’s sleeping.

Robin figures she’ll sleep for a good lot of time, so he Googles nearby burger places to pick them up something because he’s starving and he _knows_ she hasn’t eaten and a burger will do right good for her hangover. He finds a Five Guys a block away and decides on that. He grabs his keys from the table, checking over Regina once more to make sure she’s sound asleep. Lastly, he checks to make sure the door isn’t locked and quietly exits into the hall.

Driving isn’t really necessary but he has no idea where he’s going and with his luck he’ll try and walk and end up needing to cross several lanes of traffic. So he drives over, silently hoping and praying all the way that Regina doesn’t wake up while he’s gone.

[:]

The Five Guys is across the street so he’s back in 20 minutes flat, strolling in the door as though he lives there, with greasy, disgusting food in hand. Regina is still sound asleep, he finds, as he peers over to the couch.

He takes it as permission to venture into the kitchen to put down the bags of food. There he sees two empty liquor bottles a half full wine glass and what looks to be two ice lolly wrappers, an open jar of peanut butter and some used napkins.

This is the mess she must have been referring to.

He knows he probably shouldn’t but he makes his way further into the kitchen to tidy up. He grabs some of the tissues with her dishtowel and tosses them, then goes for the dishes to put them in the sink to wash. However, he completely misses the broken wine glass shattered on the floor just before the sink.

A shard of glass digs into his foot and Robin howls, disregarding Regina’s slumber. He rips his foot upward and yelps, “Oh, fucking Christ! God- fuck!”

He pogoes himself toward the couch, needing a place to sit down. Regina begins to stir with his insistent yelling.

“Robin?” she queries wearily.

He doesn’t answer her and continues cursing. He sits on the edge of the sectional and grabs his lacerated foot.

Regina sees the blood and her eyes go wild. She leaps up from her spot and rushes to his side. Her hands immediately go to hold onto his foot while her eyes look up at him. “What happened?” she demands.

“You left a bloody broken wine glass on the floor. What does it look like?”

He doesn’t mean to have a temper with her but the pain rocketing through his foot prevents much else.

“Well, you shouldn’t have been in my kitchen,” she snaps.

He raises his voice a little, “I was trying to be nice and clean up your mess!”

“Now, you know to mind your own business,” she spits as she turns his foot a little harder. Then she stands. “Stay right there and let me get some stuff to clean this up.”

She leaves him to run to her bedroom, emerging a minute or so later with alcohol and gauze. Meanwhile, he’s moved to the actual couch, balancing his foot on his knee and stupidly fiddling with the piece of glass in his foot. She sits down right next to him and he can smell her shampoo—it smells like apples and coconut. He almost comments on it, about how it’s different than before but then she’s gently prodding the shard and he cries out in pain.

“Oh quit whining,” she admonishes as she picks up a pair of tweezers and uses them to latch onto the piece of glass.

“You go shove a fucking piece of glass in your foot, then!”

She doesn’t say anything until she finally plucks the glass out of his foot. “You’ll live. At least you won’t need stitches or anything.”

“At least,” he snorts.

Regina falls silent again as she starts cleaning his wound but once she begins to apply the alcohol (which hurts like a bitch!), she continues talking, “I can’t believe you waited all that time.”

He shrugs and glances over at the kitchen, “Honestly, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could’ve just left,” she offers.

“Well, that would’ve been quite rude, wouldn’t it?”

Her left hand fidgets against her thigh and his eyes are immediately drawn to it, but he quickly glances back up, not wanting to give any impression, other than that of innocence.

But Regina isn’t keen on the innocence angle. “But to wait over half an hour? What would you have done if I hadn’t woken up for awhile?”

“Dunno,” he answers honestly, “suppose I would’ve kept waiting.”

“But why? Why would you stay?”

The question stuns him and his preliminary thoughts only shock him more. Honestly, he knows exactly why he would’ve stayed. He formulates a mental image of telling her how crazy he is about her, how Graham is a wretched boyfriend and she deserves better than that and then he would pull on her hand and pull her into his arms. His lips would find hers and he would kiss her until the room started spinning, or until they were on the bed, commencing in other illicit activities. Robin curses himself mentally for allowing his thoughts to become so salacious about the woman before him. His face even warms slightly from the embarrassment, as though she could read his thoughts, or, perhaps, because deep down he does intend to be gentlemanly as best he can.

He stammers for a second, trying to produce some pragmatic and diplomatic answer but he keeps coming up dry and just keeps babbling like a fool in front of her. Her head just tips to the side and she kicks up an eyebrow, testing him. He runs several scenarios, trying to think of something that would still make him sound suave, but without making him sound desperate. However, the only phrase that just recurs is, _I wanted to stay because I want you, because I want to kiss you and kiss you until your knees are weak,_ which sounds like it’s coming straight out of a Fabio novel, but what’s circulating roughly through his thoughts.

But, he can’t very well say that to Regina so he opts for, “I don’t know, to be honest.”

There’s a flicker of disappointment that pans across her face and he might not have even noticed it, had he not been so avidly observing her, but he caught it. She might deny that it was disappointment, and maybe it’s Robin’s own confirmation bias, but he has to believe that the last look was definitely disappointment.

He reaches for her hand and he doesn’t disregard her sharp intake of breath. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says apologetically. “I just don’t want to sound like a broken record, telling you that I care about you. More than I’d like to admit.”

She looks at him, then, really looks at him, as though everything in the world has slipped away and it’s just them sitting together in nothingness. Her eyes are still a little red but they look a little less tired and now even more heartfelt. And they are beautiful still. They hold his, uniting soft blue to quiet brown and she tacitly tells him everything with her eyes, thanking him and relaying the same caring sentiment to him.

It pains him when she finally looks away and returns to tending to his wound. She wipes it gingerly. “I never thanked you for yesterday,” she says quietly. “That’s why I-I stopped by yesterday. I, uh, I wanted to thank you and, um, tell you that you were right.” She glances up quickly at him to see if he’s listening because naturally she isn’t going to repeat that. Then when she’s sure he is, her fixation returns one again to his foot. “Well, you were sort of right,” she amends. “I do need you. But I-“ she takes a deep breath, “I want you, too.” Her last phrase is said so measured and delicate, as though she is making sure that each syllable that falls from her lips is the right one.

She doesn’t look back up at him, and instead, bandages up his heel with a gauze and then a nude colored wrap. He swallows harshly, too harshly, in fact, eliciting a brute cough. Regina jumps and looks back up at him again.

“Too tight?” she asks worriedly.

“No, no, sorry. It’s fine,” he dismisses.

The silence between them now is weighted and awkward and Robin holds his breath while he waits for her to finish.

When she does, she pulls her hand away and gestures to the foot. “There, all done.”

“Thank you, Regina,” he can finally manage.

She keeps looking to his foot, but asks about him. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. Just a flesh wound.”

She cracks a soft smile then and he can feel that drop at the bottom of his stomach. He wants to keep making her smile.

But he remembers that she’s been upset. “What about you?” he inquires. “Are you going to be okay?”

She sits back on the couch, sitting right next to him so that their thighs are touching. Her next move is unexpected, though. She leans her head onto his shoulder hesitantly, as if she isn’t sure that it’s okay, but he swiftly moves his arm behind her head so that she can fall into his chest. Her body wriggles a little to make herself comfortable. The scent of her shampoo is even stronger now and he feels the urge to bury his nose in her locks, but, instead, he just looks ahead.

Robin enjoys their quiet moments. It’s something peaceful and beautiful. But he can’t be peaceful at the moment because now that things are settled, he remembers _he’s_ settled with a bit of a dilemma. He has to tell her. But does he? Isn’t it Graham’s responsibility to admit the truth? Or Emma’s? Why should it be his burden to carry? He knows the answer, of course. It’s because Regina is his friend and he has an allegiance to her. The right thing to do would be to confess the truth.

Sack up and just be honest.  It’s not like he was at fault.

But that doesn’t stop him from trying to muster up any courage that he has. He takes a deep breath.

But just before he goes to speak, he hears Regina’s words instead. “My mother is dying.”

The way she says it makes him unsure if she’s telling him or if she’s trying to tell herself. But either way, it feels as though he’s being let in a little bit to the shadowed world of Regina Mills.

He pauses and forgets everything he was going to say. “What?” He’s stunned. He’d assumed it was something like this but that doesn’t stop the shock. “Regina, I-”

“That’s not even the worst part,” she sniffles. “It’s when I got her voicemail. She said that she was dying and then—just for a split second—I felt… relieved almost. Like that’s what she gets—” Regina’s voice cracks and he knows she’s about to cry. She clears her throat in an attempt to hide it, but it’s no use because by the time she gets out, “that’s what she gets for being so awful,” Regina is in full-on sobs. Her body wracks with them as she tries to continue defending herself but everything comes out as nonsense.

Robin throws his arms around her and hugs her tightly to him. He rocks ever so slightly and whispers reassurances that it’s going to be okay. He even dares to kiss the crown of her head a few times as she steadily cries. All the while, he can feel his heart shatter to bits as he tries to ease the impossible hurt that he knows she must be feeling. He wishes he could say he couldn’t imagine how she feels but had the roles, instead, been given to Robin and his father, he knows that he would likely feel the exact same. Of course, he doesn’t know Regina’s mother but if she is even half the horrible person Robin’s father is, he’d say Regina is justified in her feelings.

“It’s okay,” he whispers again once her crying has given way to serenity. “Regina, if your mother treated you poorly then you have every right to have no sympathy for her. And you shouldn’t carry some burden or self-loathing for feeling that way. You don’t owe her anything and if she expects you to, then that alone justifies your original feeling. I know she’s your mum but that doesn’t give her the right to treat you like shit and then turn around and expect for you to be caring for her.”

Regina sniffles again. “She did… _unspeakable_ things… but so have I.” The tears are back. “It’s not fair.”

“Did you do those unspeakable things to her?”

“No, b—”

“Then, you owe her nothing,” he states adamantly. “If your thoughts were good riddance, then that’s okay.”

“But why do I feel so bad?” she murmurs softly, thumbing the button of his shirt that divides his chest from his abdomen.

He smiles kindly down at her and dares to push a piece of hair back, out of her face, then uses his thumb to divest her face of tears. His fingers linger, tracing softly down her jaw to her chin, where he takes hold and tips it upward so that her eyes meet his. “Because you have a good heart and you love with that heart, much as that kills you.”

She scoffs, trying to look away.

“You do,” he confirms resolutely. “I’ve seen your heart, Regina.”

“But you don’t know all of it,” she tries, glancing back up at him. “You don’t know all the dark parts—all the parts that formed after what I did in—.” She stops herself with a sharp breath and another avoidance of eye contact.

“Phoenix?” he finishes for her.

She doesn’t say anything but her silence is enough of an answer.

Robin can’t deny how badly he wants to know what happened to her in Phoenix, but he understands the boundaries. He knows that she doesn’t wish to tell him and he’d never think to pressure her into telling him. If ever she wishes to confess what happened, it would be of her own volition. But a part of him still wishes he could carry the burden for her. He knows it’s messy to develop feelings like these, or any feelings period, but they’re there, consuming him like a cancer. The sirens are already going off, telling him to get out, to walk away, before he gets in too deep, before he ends up a part of the shambles mimicking the ones he created with Marian. Yet, he remains, staring down at this gorgeous forsaken woman who won’t look him in the eye because she has a past, as if that past could push him away. Little does she know that he’s all in and willing to stand by her for whatever hurricanes have followed in her wake. But she also doesn’t know that he bears a secret that could, instead, push _her_ away.

His head tilts sideways and he tries to get a look at her face, or hopefully to let gravity pull her gaze to his, but she’s obstinate and doesn’t look back up at him until he insistently says her name.

When he finally has her attention on him, he continues, “Whatever happened in Phoenix doesn’t matter. You’re here now and you aren’t the person that you left behind there. This is your second chance and I’ve seen you do good with it already, don’t underscore that.”

“Oh, what have you seen that deems my heart so good and pure?” she bites back. Her snark is heavier than she intends, he can tell by the way she cringes.

But he answers back with similar snark, “Well, first of all, _no one_ has a heart that’s good and pure a—”

“What?” she answers incredulously through her tears. “Is Robin Locksley admitting that he’s not perfect?”

He laughs buoyantly for a split second before reproaching her, “Well, had you let me finish, I would’ve said except me.”

“Mhm,” she hums dubiously.

“More importantly,” he presses on, “I would’ve also said that I saw it just two days ago for a whole afternoon with the Cassidy boys. And what about that day we worked together when we first discovered we were coworkers?”

“I already knew before you showed up,” she corrects. “And I was only being nice because I had to be.”

He rolls his eyes. “Can’t you let me be right just this once?”

“Well, it’s the truth. Plus, it gives me such a thrill, proving you wrong.”

“Then what about now, hm?”

“What do you mean?”

“How come you’ve let me come over and sit on your couch? And don’t say I invited myself, because you invited me in.”

A sneer curls upon her lips. “Charity,” she puts simply.

He grins in spite of himself. “Is that right?”

“Mhm,” she sings, nodding vehemently.

He stares at her momentarily, engaging in a battle of subtle head tilting and steady eye contact. But he eventually caves, unable to think up a better comeback, and instead, he just narrows his eyes. “You just can’t let me win, can you?”

“Oh, that would ruin all the fun,” she pouts as she curls back into his side.

His arm holds her a little tighter now to it, given what he knows.

“Robin?”

“Hmm?” he hums.

“Tell me your favorite memory,” she requests nicely.

“My favorite memory?” he asks, and then begins to ponder on it.

“Don’t think about it.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she sighs, “it should be genuine. The first thing that comes to mind when you hear the words favorite memory.”

“Okay, then,” he laughs.

He doesn’t think any further because he knows exactly what his initial thought was.

His body adjusts a little bit further into the couch and he clears his throat before beginning his tale. “Okay, so growing up I had two best friends, Cyrus and Alice. Alice—her parents, they’re as dreadful as mine. They wanted to keep money all in the family like mine were doing with Marian and me. It’s not like what you think,” he interjects, “The rules aren’t that antiquated. Like they can’t actually force us together but they’ll manipulate anyway to keep whom they want together, together and whom they want apart, apart. Anyways, so Cyrus and Alice, they were in love. And Cy’s family loved Alice but he wasn’t nearly enough for hers. So the summer after our final year, Cy’s granddad had this wicked old lake cottage and he gave Cyrus the key and told him he could use it for the summer. So, the four of us cleared our schedules for a full week and went out to this lake house. We had the time of our lives. We threw parties, we got trashed, we just lived out all the frustrations we’d built up. But the best part was on Wednesday. Things had quieted down, our other friends were gone and it was just the four of us. It was our lazy day so we decided to get high off our arses.”

Regina laughs aloud. “Of course. No surprise that you would.”

He laughed along with her. “Yes, there were even pot brownies.”

“Pot brownies,” she repeats.

“Pot brownies,” he affirms.

She rolls her eyes amusedly.

“And while we waited for those to bake we might have gotten ourselves a little baked, smoking a bowl.”

“You’re terrible,” she interrupts, still laughing.

“I was 18, let me be,” he chuckles. “Anyway, so we get high as hell. And after the brownies come out of the oven we were smart enough to let them cool—or well, Marian was. So she suggested that we go for a little dip. The thing about the cottage, though, is it sat on this cliff, and if you wanted to go into the water, you had to down,” he demonstrates with this finger, “to the side of the house. Well, since we were high we figured it’d be a laugh to instead jump off the little cliff.”

A small gasp escapes Regina’s lips. “How deep was the water?”

“Not deep. At least, not where we jumped.  I broke my left leg, sprained both wrists and my right ankle, and fractured a rib or two. Doctors said I was lucky as hell.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” he sighs sheepishly.

“So, what made it the best memory of your life?”

“Well, for one, the girls decided to forgo the jumping so it was me and Cy and right before I jumped he told me he was gonna propose to Ali that night and asked if I’d be there for their eloping.” A stupid grin spreads across his face. “But the best moment of my life was when I hurled my body over that cliff. For the few seconds it took to hit the ground, it was the most peaceful moments of my entire life. Everything faded away—no parents, no commitments, and no plans, just me being alive. And that was it, it was the most alive I’d ever felt in the 18 years I’d been alive. I wasn’t Robin Locksley for those few moments, I was just a man who finally got to be one with the world and feel something other than pressure or expectance.

“And that was the moment I decided that I wanted more out of my life. I made a promise to myself to do something that exhilarating again and to make sure my life never got too stagnant. If I spent a month somewhere and didn’t meet a single new person, then I needed to move. If my job got too mundane then I needed to change it. If my love life felt more like a routine to complete than an adventure, then it was time to move on.”

“Mmm,” Regina hums dreamily. He assumes she’s trying to picture it all in her head. “You’ll have to take me there one day.”

He cracks a new smile. “Maybe I will.”

“So, being a kindergarten teacher isn’t too mundane for you?”

“Ha! Oh, being a teacher is vastly adventurous, in my opinion.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean think of all the crazy things five-year olds can bring into your life.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Fair enough. So, were you always gonna be a teacher, or what?”

“No, I wanted to be an artist, to be honest,” he tries to make his disappointment prevalent.

“That seems like a lively thing to do, why not?”

There are several answers—money, his parents, which included more money, Marian, but he just answers with, “I dunno.”

“Hmph,” she muses.

“What about you?” he tries for a shift. “Did you always want to be a teacher?”

“Not until high school, much to my mother’s dismay, but it was a step up from what I originally intended.”

“Which was?”

She sighs, “Don’t laugh, okay?”

“On my honor,” he presses a hand to his chest.

“I wanted to be a librarian, growing up,” she confesses with weak vigor.

He accidentally snorts a little, which elicits a slap from her.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

She pouts then, sitting up straight and crossing her arms.

“Oh, Regina,” he begs, “come off it. I think that’s lovely. Librarians are great, mean sometimes—hey! Perfect for you!—but still wonderful.  Why’d you change your mind?”

He can see her gears working, calculating how long she can give him the silent treatment. But she must realize she can’t do it for long because then she answers. “If you must know, my mother wanted something more practical, and then, in my freshman year of high school, the guidance counselor stuck me in this teacher program and told me it’d be good for me even if I wanted to be a librarian. I tried to get out of it but the counselor insisted I stay. So, I did. And at the end of the year, we had to go actually teach at a school. I got third grade and I thought it was going to be a train wreck but it turned out to be one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. Surprisingly, I loved the kids. I loved the atmosphere. I loved everything about it.”

“Would you say that’s your best memory, then?” he murmurs.

She grins. “Yeah, one of them.”

Her head rests back on his chest and he looks over at the telly and he starts chuckling to himself as he envisions them being in their different lives. They probably would’ve never have crossed paths and that makes him a bit sad. But picturing Regina as a librarian, in a pencil skirt and big round glasses with her hair always pinned back in a bun, ebbs away some of that sorrow.

“Could you imagine us? A librarian and an artist.”

Regina laughs and hard. “Oh my god, yes. We would live in this ugly, rinky dink bohemian-like apartment that’s half brick, half dry wall and art would line the walls, some good some bad and—oh god!—Christmas lights would line every crevice of the apartment!” She shudders, still laughing. “Oh, and we’d use mason jars for _literally_ _everything_. And you would drink coffee out of this ugly ass mug that looks like it was made by a four-year old at arts and crafts and it has a little fish on it but it’s your favorite. And we’d probably be health conscious vegans. And oh no! We’d have those disgusting little bead curtains that would separate all the rooms.”

Regina can’t stop laughing as she rambles on but Robin has stopped altogether and his face has surely drained of all blood and expression. She said _we_. When he’d asked he’d meant them living separate lives but she envisions them together, living a life together. Is it different than how they are now? Does she want the same even though they chose different professions that ended up putting them together anyway? They could still have that if they wanted, right? They could have their bohemian apartment with their art and mason jars. He wants that life with her.

He wants _a_ life with her.

Regina stops talking when she realizes Robin has gone off into another galaxy. “What? You don’t like it?”

“Wha- No! I love it. I love everything about it,” he smiles and his finger taps the underside of her chin.

“What’s wrong, then?”

“Well,” he says, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. “It’s just you said… we.”

She pauses, moving her head back as if she doesn’t understand but soon a mix of recognition and subsequent embarrassment spread across her features. She looks away from him, saying, “I suppose I did, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t let her away for too long, hooking his finger beneath her chin once more to bring her eyes back to his. “You did,” he whispers quietly. He looks so deeply at her, trying not to glance down at her lips, which he wants nothing more than to kiss right now. But he needs to focus because there are more important things than his desire. “And I must say that was my favorite part.”

She looks back up at him on her very own now, blinking steadily. He’s said it. He’s put it out there. Yesterday, when he’d proclaimed his feelings, he’d taken them back, afraid of them being misconstrued or not reciprocated. But now, hearing her plan out their life has him feeling more confident.

He looks at her expectantly.

“Yeah,” is all she says, then he sees her lean in.

He follows suit.

She moves in a little more until their lips are mere inches apart.

Robin swallows, so hard, he nearly chokes. He wants to almost pinch himself to know that this is real, that Regina might want the same things that he wants. But maybe he’s hearing things or misunderstanding them to fit his own needs. Gods in heaven, he wants to kiss her. It’s wrong, they’ve just started what could be a beautiful friendship but he’s so incredibly attracted to her and he wants her, oh, he wants her. She’s gorgeous and witty and he’s known for sometime that he’s attracted to her but he’s tried to be gentle about his feelings because he doesn’t want to let either of them down. But he does have these feelings and if she’s willing to let him act on them then he won’t argue. But he has to be certain that this is what Regina really wants because this could effectively ruin their friendship and their working relationship and her own relationsh—.

Fuck.

He’d forgotten in the whirlwind of verbal Russian roulette, that he came here to confess the truth to her about Graham. He can hear the thunderous and annoyingly patronizing voice of John telling him how to act. _You need to get a grip, man, and just tell her the truth. If she hates you for it, she hates you for it, but she’ll hate you even more if you kiss her right now._ But he wants to so badly, and it only gets stronger as she leans in closer toward him.

She must want to kiss him, too, but he can’t allow that, right? He has to tell her all the facts, making sure that she’s fully aware of the mess that they’re about to get into. But he aches and he doesn’t know where it’s coming from but now that the possibility of him kissing her is present, he can’t help but lean forward in equal measure, further closing the gap between them and giving way to temptation.

Her lips are nearly pressed to his. He can’t breathe.

“Regina, I-” he tries weakly.

She leans in a hair further and draws her voice down to a whisper, “Hey,” she takes a weighted pause before adding, “I like you too.”

Regina lifts a hand to his face then leans upward until her lips crash against his, overpowering any goodwill he had left.

He’s slightly surprised and doesn’t have time to react. All he can even think about is that he and Regina are now lip locked, glued together. Her lips are just as he’d imagined they’d be—warm and soft, a perfect fit for his own. He’s intoxicated and driven by an intense desire that now has been lit aflame in his chest. He moans into the kiss, but their lips stay connected and unmoving, save her lips suckling sweetly on his top lip and has him damn near melting in his spot.

They only part briefly for air, making brief eye contact and giving the other permission to kiss them again. And then, their lips are reunited, but hungrier and needier, this time. Her arms encircle around his neck to pull her across his lap (thankfully avoiding his injured foot, which truthfully he’d forgotten about) and more solidly into his kiss. His own arms snake around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, until they’re melded into one. And their lips are now open, tongues seeking one another and lips smacking together and then apart.

He knows this is wrong because he should be confessing the truth about Graham but he can’t help but get caught up in her and his feelings. Dear god, his feelings. Robin can feel himself going mad as his heart nearly explodes in his chest. Truly, he hasn’t felt this excited about kissing a woman in quite sometime. He knows it’s mostly the anticipation but now all that matters is her sweet kisses, which taste of coffee and a hint of mint. He’s desperate to explore her, unable to stop.

But he’s able to take himself away from her lips and journey down her jaw to her neck. He relishes in it when he does because she tosses her head back and gives a gentle moan in response. Her fingers rake through his hair and he knows what it means.

They need to slow down, they need to chill out, but he’s too wired to care, too charged to do anything but experience it all.

He dares to place his lips now on the center of her chest, which she sanctions by pushing him against her flesh, digging her nails deep into his scalp as she brings him as close as she possibly can. He can feel her hips gyrate against him as a reflex and he’s beyond turned on. Though she’s pressed firmly against him, he takes one hand from her waist and weasels it between the fused bodies, skirting around at the hem of her blouse and slithering upward, until it has slipped beneath the fabric and it’s running up her bare stomach. She doesn’t fight him, and instead, encourages him to keep going until he’s reaching her tit and groping at it.

Her hips gyrate again and he can feel his trousers growing smaller by the minute. He’s sure she can feel him hardening against her leg but she doesn’t seem the least bit phased by it.

Instead, she just reconnects their lips, kissing him deeply and moves until the seam of her pants settles on his cock and he moans aloud, as she circles her hips some more.

This was never Robin’s intention, not really. Sure, he was ready, at any rate to be snogging Regina but as she tugs at his shirt to indicate that she wants it off, then reaches for her own, he realizes, he’s moved past the boundary. He sobers and breaks away from her.

His breathing is incredibly shallow, he notices as silence befalls them. And his internal debate has crescendoed to an all out screaming match over right and wrong, over the blurred line between what he wants to do and what he needs to do.

He doesn’t pull away, but whispers against her skin, “I can’t.”

“Why not?” she whispers back conspiratorially.

He licks his own lips and leaves them parted as he dips his head to hers, but John’s voice pierces through once more. Although, suddenly it sounds much like his own.

_Tell the bleeding truth, for fuck’s sake man._

She sobers then, too, still breathing heavily.

“What’s wrong?” she asks curiously, scratching at his beard and eyeing him intently.

“Nothing,” he bites his lip, “it’s nothing it’s just—”

He’s babbling until her voice overpowers his, “Is this not what you really want?”

He swallows hard. “It’s like you don’t even know me,” he playfully feigns offense, trying to cover his worry.

“Oh, how silly of me to have asked a question with such an obvious answer,” she volleys back.

“Yes, how dare you,” he teases, then sobers once more.

“I kissed you,” she tells him blatantly, simply staring at him.

“I kissed you back.”

“We... were going… to…” she says slowly, trying to process it.

“We could have.”

She blinks, then her hands fly up to cover her face in embarrassment and she makes a single sniffle, an almost scoff that is scorning herself for what just transpired. But Robin is quick to follow, reaching for her hands and bringing them back down to her lap, where he holds them.

“I’m sorry,” she shakes her head. “I don’t know what the hell came over me, I- Robin, I—”

“Regina, it’s okay, I instigated it,” he consoles her. “We don’t know what came over either of us.”

“I just—you and—I don’t,” she prattles, trying to edge out some semblance of a sentence.

But he understands without her even saying anything coherent. “I know,” he finally says.

She doesn’t say anything else, but just leans forward, darting her tongue out to wet her lips and he struggles to breathe for a moment. He wants to feel that very tongue wrestling with his own, yielding to the passion that is currently flickering between them.

He leans in.

She does, too.

He can’t kiss her again, but he wants to so badly that his hands act on their own, trailing up her back and resting just below her shoulder blades. Just a gentle nudge forward with them could have her lips against his. Her palms scrub either side of his chest and those, too could move up and link around his neck and have her to him all the same. But neither of them act. They just look at each other, breathing heavily. Robin can feel the tightness in his chest. He doesn’t know what to do.

He knows what he has to do, though.

He takes a deep breath and he swears he goes to start telling her the truth, but instead, he blurts out quietly, “I want to kiss you.”

The pit of his stomach is jelly and it only stirs thicker as she says, “I want to kiss you, too.”

Her lips brush against his. He’s so weak.

He caves once again, tipping his head upwards and joining their lips together once more. But this one is different, this one he savors, because it isn’t new, it isn’t expectant, it’s natural.

He just lets himself feel everything, the caress of her lips, the taste of her tongue. He revels in the way she smells and the feeling of her fingers threading through his hair. He feels her body heat, he feels her.

This is being alive.

Soon, the long savory kiss becomes short, measured pecks and he can’t stop smiling, but he knows he needs to be serious and get down to business. But he’s so happy in this moment.

“Regina,” he finally says during the breaks between the kisses, “we need to talk about this.”

She stops. “I know. But that means more being a serious adult and less kissing.”

“I know,” he responds reluctantly.

“It’s messy,” she urges quietly.

“I know,” he says again.

“And we were doing well building up our friendship.”

“I know.”

“And this would effectively ruin that.”

“I know.”

“And we don’t know if this is physical or if we could maybe find common ground to be serious and, you know, work and our friends and Gra— oh god! Graham!” Her eyes grow as wide as saucers and she hops backwards off of Robin’s lap to stand all in one fell swoop.

His own eyes grow and he feels the warning of his palms beginning to sweat because he’d been avoiding the Graham related drama, but now, it is entirely messier because he came to tell Regina that he is cheating on her only to turn around and help Regina cheat on him. Oh, he’s made a mess. He can’t tell her the truth, now, because then it’ll make him look like arsehole, plus, she’ll never feel vindicated, given that she’s now equally as sinful as Graham. But, he can’t lie either because she deserves the truth and she needs to leave Graham—not for him but for herself. Now, his only option is to pick the lesser of the two evils and hopefully, give Regina the chance to kick that scum out of her life.

But are they the scum now? They certainly were kissing and nearly dry humping without Graham’s knowledge. But she’s going to end it with him anyway, right? So, it technically isn’t that bad, right? But, still, she didn’t know that Graham was cheating before she cheated so that doesn’t alleviate her culpability. Then again, that lands on him because he was the only one with full knowledge who should’ve shared it with Regina when he first showed up. Instead, he was more focused on how gorgeous she looks, even with her make up nearly all gone, her hair thrown up in a half arse bun atop her head and her donning a baggy New Mexico t-shirt and leggings. He was too distracted over how badly he wanted her and how a wanker like Graham didn’t deserve her.

Perhaps, Graham isn’t the only one.

“Robin,” he voice pleads, tinged with fearfulness.

He has to tell her.

So he rises from the spot, studding his hands into his pockets, and starts with a guilty, “Regina, I need to te—”

But he’s cut off by a knock at the door and her wild eyes zip from the door back to his eyes, which mirror hers. “Graham.”

“That’s him?”

“We have plans today and I—”

“He’s coming over here?”

“No, no,” she quickly waves her hands. “We were supposed to meet as his place later. Maybe he came to surprise me?”

“Well, then Regina I nee—”

The knocking on the door gets more insistent and he feels panic rise in his throat.

Regina quickly turns on him and brings her self close to him, even daring to reach out and touch his arms. She drops her voice lower than a whisper and instructs him. “Okay, go back to the bathroom, count to like 50 or something and come out. We’ll just say you were over here checking on me and you were giving me a rundown of the staff meeting we had today.”

He nods and then backs away, following her directions.

“Oh, and Robin,” she calls after him, voice still quiet. He turns back to her. “Make sure you flush the toilet.”

He cracks a smile, “I’m not actually gonna use the loo, you know?”

“I know, you idiot,” she rolls her eyes, “I meant so it sounds legitimate.”

There’s another knock and both their eyes dart in direction of the door. But Regina hisses for him to go and she begins to trot her way over towards the door.

Just as he’s entering the bedroom, he hears the door open and Regina’s surprise is equal to his own when she announces, “Emma Swan?”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe as he listens to the other woman talk. “Hi, I should’ve called, I know, is this a bad time?”

“Kind of,” Regina answers rudely and Robin feels a tug at his heart because she has no idea that she’s about to be ambushed with something he should’ve long since confessed. “What can I help you with Ms. Swan? Is Graham okay?”

“Graham… doesn’t even know that I’m here.”

“Okayyyy,” Regina drawls out agitatedly. “Then why are you here?”

“Can I come in?”

Regina hesitates and Robin secretly wishes that she’d just sent the other woman away but, eventually she concedes. “I suppose so, but we have to make it brief, I have company.”

“Oh, god,” Emma apologizes, “I didn’t realize. If you need me to come back another time, I can.”

“No, it’s fine.”

He hears the door open wider with a creak and he doesn’t bother going back to the bathroom, and instead steps towards the living room. He might as well face the beast head on. There’s no running away now and there’s no way to get him out of this mess or let Regina down easily.

He’s edging the end of the hallway as their voices get louder, moving closer to him. He almost turns back. Maybe he could just stay locked away in the bathroom while Emma confesses the truth and he can play dumb after she’s gone. But he knows he can’t do that. He has to accept the consequences of his negligence. He lingers, though, around the opening, waiting for the women to come into view, hoping the corner can shield him for just a little while longer.

Regina spots him first. He can tell she’s surprised that he’s back out but she doesn’t verbalize it. Instead, she simply starts with an introduction. “Oh, uh, Ms. Swan, this is my coworker, R—”

“Robin?” Emma interrupts.

Regina’s surprise shines through this time and she looks between him and Emma several times. “You two know each other?”

Emma deflects her question and turns on Robin. “You knew who I was last night, didn’t you?” she accuses and he doesn’t argue and simply casts his eyes downward.

Realization washes over Regina. “You were the blonde last night?”

Emma looks incredulously over at Robin, “So you told her about me?”

“My roommate did,” he tells her.

“So, what?” Regina fills in the silence. “Are you two seeing each other?”

Emma doesn’t answer, but instead, looks to Robin, who knows his face is now covered in remorse.

“What’s going on?” Regina demands.

“Tell her,” Robin directs at Emma. “You came all this way.”

Emma doesn’t speak immediately. Instead, she chews on her tongue for a split second, allowing enough time for Regina to turn back on Robin and hiss her question at him again.

He only answers with, “I tried to tell you,” in a low and apologetic whisper that conveys the heartbreak he feels.

His eyes don’t quite meet hers because frankly, he cannot see the betrayed look in her eyes as Emma confesses. But he can still feel her eyes piercing into him, settling right into the center of his scalp, as if all the answers are hidden there. Little had she known that they’d been hidden just beneath his tongue as it was connecting with hers in passion, but now it’s twisted and clumsy and waiting to deliver the last words it has left: _I’m sorry_.

“Regina,” Emma braves measuredly. “There’s something you should know.”

Robin steals a quick glance over at Regina, whose arms are crossed and mouth is formed into a tight line.

Emma is stammering stupidly as Robin carefully observes the brunette, but he doesn’t jump in, and maybe should because he could’ve assumed the responsibility of telling her the truth, but he remains silent.

“Spit it out, Miss Swan,” Regina spews agitatedly.

“I—Graham and I—we, uh,” Emma gauchely continues.

The rest happens in a series of several seconds. Regina’s face contorts momentarily at the mention of Graham’s name, followed by a sudden rush of understanding, which in turn is polished off with a visible seething anger—all of which occurs while Emma finally gets out the words, “We’re sleeping together.”

Regina doesn’t speak immediately. Instead, she watches Emma crossly. Robin imagines that Regina is trying to see if she can blow the blonde up with her mind. He can feel the anger radiating off of her and he feels terrible. He could’ve prevented all of this if he’d just been honest at the get go. But there’s no going back. They’ve past the point of no return.

“You know, Emma Swan,” Regina starts slowly. To many she might sound patient. But Robin knows Regina better than that. This is what a hunter sounds like, circling its prey. He can hear the subtle taunt and the venom, which will be delivered for the kill.

He knows it’s coming and he doesn’t even notice how he squeezes his eyes shut because he can’t bear to watch Emma get eaten alive. But he listens and Regina delivers.  “Ever since I met you, I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. I saw the way you looked at Graham but I tried to pass it off as camaraderie. There was no way you were dumb enough to put your schoolgirl crush on display in front of everyone. But I underestimated you.”

Emma looks hurt and, frankly, it serves her right, but then again, he had a chance to be honest, too, and didn’t take it. But Emma’s hurt quickly fades into an indignant frown. “Look, Regina, I understand you’re angry but I came here as a courtesy to you.”

“No,” Regina answers flatly. She sticks out an accusatory finger and Robin knows this is the end, the last battle, the final blow, that quiet moment in the jungle just before the hunter pounces and captures its prey.

“No,” she repeats, “what you came here for, Miss Swan, was absolution. Are you going to stop seeing Graham, now? Of course not! But you’re hoping that now that you’ve told me, I will direct all of my anger to Graham and you will be free to live your life without burden. Maybe next week we could hang out, you can give me a makeover, braid my hair, talk about who Graham thinks is the better kisser. All the while, you get to screw him and I just get to smile and play along. You did this to make yourself feel better, Em-ma,” she spits the other woman’s name. “But you don’t get my forgiveness. You just get to know that I know. Now, turn around, and get the hell out of my apartment.”

Emma doesn’t move at first, but slowly she turns and makes her way back from whence she came, shuffling toward the door sorrowfully.

“Oh, and Emma,” Regina calls after her, “if you have even a shred of decency left, don’t tell Graham, you’ve been here. I want to handle him, myself.”

Emma nods as she reaches for the door handle. “As you wish.” Then she exits.

Robin stands there, dumfounded and seeking his brain for something to say. But as he watches the huff and puff of her chest, he knows she’s saved some anger for him. He frets, swallowing hard and nearly chokes. What could he say? What could he do to fix this?

“Regina,” he starts weakly.

She doesn’t look at him. “You knew.” It wasn’t a question.

He wishes he could rewind to just a half hour ago when they were sitting on the couch, laughing and talking about the future. He’d give anything to see that smile in place of the pained grimace that now resides on her face. He’d hurt her and there was no way to take it back, no way to apologize for being a complete and utter cock up. He really wishes he could rewind the whole day, telling her the truth from the start. Things might be different but, at least, then, she wouldn’t be looking at him like she is now.

“Yes,” he resigns.

He can see tears welling in her eyes again and he breaks. He doesn’t want to be the reason she cries.

“Why didn’t tell me?” she tearfully accuses.

“I—” he attempts, but everything is jumbled in his head. “There just wasn’t a right time.”

“Wasn—” she scoffs, “What do you mean there wasn’t a right time? Maybe when you walked through my door, you could’ve said, ‘hey Regina just FYI your boyfriend is a tool bag, who’s cheating on you. Or maybe even before you crossed my threshold! You had almost two hours to tell me the truth!”

He groans, but doesn’t mean to. It’s reactionary. “That’s why I came over here, Regina, I swear. I came here to tell you what happened but—”

“But what!? Why didn’t you tell me!?” She’s yelling now and he feels like such a jerk.

“I wanted to,” he sighs, trying to eject the pain in his chest, “but I let my feelings get in the way. And I’m sorry for that.”

She’s retreating again, he can see it. She refuses to look at him and picks a focal point on the wall, instead. “But what about my feelings? God, he cheated and you—You! This,” she gestures between them, “can’t happen, now.”

There’s another pang in his chest and he feels so miserable. It doesn’t have to be like this. It can’t end like this. He reaches out for her but she pulls away. “Regina, I—”

“Go,” she says so quietly he almost doesn’t hear it. Or maybe, he doesn’t want to.

He can’t leave like this. He won’t move. “I can’t.”

That’s when she finally looks at him. Her eyelids flutter and he can’t help but think about how beautiful she is. He can’t leave her behind. He can’t leave her like this. But he can’t clean the wounds he helped make. He’s stuck.

Her eyes aren’t angry anymore. They’re wet with tears but they’re no longer mad. She turns to him and begins walking. His heart catches in his throat and he’s fairly certain that she’s going to slap him, deservedly so. But instead, when her hands come into contact with his face, they are gentle and they slide across his cheeks to encircle his neck and pull his face down to hers, until their lips are upon one another’s. It’s a soft, tender kiss. It’s a goodbye kiss.

It stays muted until they split. “For now, go.”

He has no choice but to oblige but he lingers as long as he can. Then he trudges mournfully to the door, chancing one final glance backward to see her watching him as he goes. He blinks once, whispers one last apology and then he goes.

As she wishes.


	11. Chapter Eleven Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is split into two because I realized A LOT was going on with this chapter (mostly, because it spans a couple of weeks rather than the one or two days a chapter usually covers) and I felt like it was too much to pile on you guys at once. Part II, will be up as soon as I get it finished, but I wanted to go ahead and give you guys Part I. So, enjoy, let me know what ya think, etc. etc.

She feels like an idiot. The only problem is she doesn’t know what makes her feel more like an idiot.

How could she have been stupid enough to let herself get hurt by two different people in one day?

Regina can feel that dull throb begin behind her eyes—her least favorite place to get headaches, because it’s the most telling of the headaches. It means several things, that she’s tired, she’s been crying too much, and that she is still genuinely upset about something. Oddly—or maybe not so much anymore—Robin is the first to come to mind. It should be Graham. She should have this overbearing sadness over the loss of her relationship with Graham, but, right now, her mourning is directed at Robin.

It’d been over with Graham, she’d known that already. She was even planning to end things with him and when Robin kissed her that had all but sealed the deal for her. But now it’s messy and she doesn’t know why.

This was her chance. The universe was giving her a Get Out of Jail Free card but she didn’t want to take it. Instead, she wants to get angry. She wants to throw things and she wants Graham to know that she knows what a complete and total asshole he is.

But she’s just as bad as he is. She has nothing to be angry with him for. And yet, she can’t stop the rage that sets a fire on her skin every time she remembers everything that’s happened. She technically still has a right to be angry, right? He _still_ cheated, so she _still_ gets to be angry. Besides, her kiss with Robin was just that, a kiss. She has no misconceptions that Emma and Graham were knocking hips. Nevermind that she could have very well have had sex with Robin had Emma Swan not interrupted, but it didn’t happen and that’s all that matters… right?

Regina doesn’t need an answer to that. The intentions are what matter, and she’s just as guilty as Graham. But he doesn’t need to know any of that. She still has a right to be angry, and he does, too, but he doesn’t know that he has the privilege. Their misdeeds don’t cancel each other out. It won’t vindicate either of them. They still wronged one another and they still have the right to be angry.

So she’s going to be angry, dammit.

And she is. She’s blood-boiling angry. Her apartment walls have been stained with the red she only sees and her eyes sting with the tears that she finally succumbs to. She loathes crying, but honestly, she’d rather do it now than in front of Graham.

She studies the door, realizing she hasn’t taken her eyes from it since Robin walked out of it. Her eyes shift back and forth, as if she’s trying to add something up in her head, which she really is trying to do. She’s trying to calculate how she could’ve been so blind to not see the truth about Graham; how she could’ve been so naïve to believe that she could trust someone or anyone.

She should’ve known. Life is too easily unfair.

Her hands feel rough against her face as she scrubs and scrubs at the tears, at the red tinted skin that betrays her.  This is not fair. It’s not fair.

“Pull yourself together, Regina,” she snaps at herself.

She needs to move. She needs to start thinking about what she’s going to say to Graham. Robin needs to be put on the back burner for now. But she longs for those soft, blue eyes that pleaded with her to let him stay. Now is not the time, though. She can handle Robin later; she wants to handle Robin later. Right now, she needs dry up her tears and then go formally hand Graham his ass.

She can handle this. She’s used to taping back the pieces of her life. She’d done it plenty of times when she was younger when Cora tried to ruin anything. Then again, back in Phoenix, she had people in her corner, namely her father. Henry had always been there when she needed him, especially when Cora tried to belittle or demean Regina.

Sometimes Regina and her mother would get in all out screaming matches about her life and Cora would find any way possible to find something wrong with it and demand Regina change it. And it always ended the same, with Cora getting the last word, no matter what, and Regina outside riding Rocinante around the track to get the rest of her anger out of her system.

True to tradition, as well, was Henry’s unwavering support behind Regina. He might’ve always been quiet during Cora and Regina’s showdowns, and often in the presence of Cora anyway, but he never failed to be there for Regina. He was always waiting outside the ring to tend to her and he’d put an arm around her, reminding her that it would get better one day. And he’d always finish it with the saying he said to her everyday up until when he died, “Se fuerte, Regina.”

She’d always clung so tightly to those three little words when she was younger. She even got it tattooed on her left shoulder when she was 20. And she’d put them there to always carry her father’s words with her because she always wanted to be reminded that he believed in her and there was a reason for it, but also, because those words could carry on through the rest of her life, reminding her to be brave even when everything is going wrong. They are there for days like today.

Regina doesn’t resist the urge to touch her shoulder and look upwards. After a moment, she collects herself and marches to the bathroom to wash her face and get ready to go to Graham’s. All the while, she quietly repeats to herself, “Se fuerte, Regina.”

[:]

It’s just past 7:30 when she shows up at Graham’s door, lingering in the putrid smelling hallway and reminiscing on her first encounter with Robin.

She has to stop thinking about him and focus on the problem at hand but every time she tries, something else about him comes up.  Her mind is elsewhere, chasing after dreams of her and Robin, while her hands take on a mind of their own and knock on Graham’s hollow front door.

She wonders, just before Graham opens the door, what would’ve happened if everything had changed at their first meeting. What if she’d resolved herself to finding Robin attractive and let him make his move on her? What if the last few weeks she’d been trying to warm Robin’s bed rather than Graham’s?

Her heart knocks hard against her chest, thinking about literally warming Robin’s bed. Why is she here? She should be after Robin, telling him that it doesn’t matter what happened with Graham, that she wants to be with him, and then figure out the Graham stuff later. But it’s too late, she’s made her choice.

The door creaks open, revealing Graham in her favorite indigo button-up, with a smile that could light up the New Mexico sky. For a brief second, she forgets why she’s there. Her thoughts finally abandon Robin long enough to remember how much she misses about Graham. Maybe it’s because she hasn’t seen him like this in so long that it was easy to forget all the good things they had. It was easier to fall under Robin’s spell and let herself run away. But now that she stands in front of Graham, she can feel her ribs curl around her heart and wring it like a dirty rag. The tears, she thought she’d ridded herself of earlier, make a new threat in the backs of her eyes. This is not how this was supposed to go.

“Hello, beautiful,” Graham greets her obliviously.

He bends downward to kiss her cheek and she allows it, leaning to make it more comfortable. Then, she’s covered in warmth as his arms circle around to her back and pull her close to his chest. Her arms stay glued to her side, while his tighten around her. Suddenly, he’s the overbearing, difficult Graham that she’s often seen lately.

She squirms a little and he gets the idea to let her go.

When he looks at her expectantly, she figures he must be waiting for her excitement to see him, but she feels nothing except the boulder of anger and guilt resting in the pit of her stomach. She should just slap him and leave and save herself all the heartbreak she’ll inevitably feel if they fight about it. But she wants to hear the truth from Graham. She wants to hear him say that he betrayed her.

Which means, she has to play the part and bide her time until she can sink him. She twists her face then into the best smile she can muster and finally answers him, “Hi.”

That’s the password that allows her entrance. His arm swoops down and across and extends through the doorway, inviting her inside.

The apartment smells strongly of cooked olive oil and herbs. She hopes he hasn’t cooked pasta again because she doesn’t feel that she could stomach it. She needs something light and fresh, something that will make her feel more clean and not add to the mass that is currently taking up the majority of her lower abdomen. But, it still smells nice, especially when she gets that sniff of mint and lemon that eventually wafts her way.

“Something smells nice,” she notes, as he helps her peel out of her ratty jean jacket.

“Caprese chicken,” he tells her, “and a small lemon garlic kale salad.”

Damn, that does sound good.

She was planning to quickly inform Graham of what she knows and then bail. At least, then she can save face and she doesn’t have to drag it out longer than necessary. But as they near the source of the smell, her mind starts to change, or her stomach does the thinking. Her heart follows suit, not long afterward, upon seeing Graham’s small round table donning a cloth and a single burning candle. The silverware is set out neatly and there is a wine bottle (the Coppola cabernet, one of her favorites) chilling in a bucket of ice. It looks like a picturesque date and it makes Regina’s chest painfully clench up again, hard enough to have her reach for it this time.

She should just put them out of their misery now, but she’s starving and everything looks so perfect. What’s wrong with wanting to be spoiled for just a little while longer? Besides, Graham is the one who will suffer, not her. Or, at least, that’s what she’s going to tell herself.

As he guides her to her chair, she laughs. “How long did you spend on Google to find that?”

He pulls her chair out and waits for her to settle before pushing it in back toward the table. “That Pinterest thing you like so much actually can be useful.”

She chuckles and smoothes down the tablecloth. Her throat tightens when her brain catches up to the sound of her laughter. It’s completely genuine and it makes Regina ache all over this time. She thought that she would be fine. She believed that this would be a smooth transition, an easy break. But for the past few minutes, she’d started mentally compiling a list of reasons not to leave. She wants to fight them. She wants to be strong and give it to him straight but each passing second comprises another reason to stay.

And _her heart_ has to suffer.

She knows that she needs to lay down the law but her nerve is not there, so she simply fidgets in her chair, while he smiles sweetly and pours the cabernet—thank God for the wine—at least, if all else fails, she can get miserably drunk.

After they start eating, Graham lets out a moan and comments on how delicious the chicken is. She must be notably quiet, though, because he follows with asking if she’s alright, to which she answers mindlessly that she’s fine, just thinking.

When he returns to eating, he’s still covered in concern and it actually ignites her ire a little bit. How dare he even get the right to act as if he’s concern when he’s the entire reason she’s troubled in the first place—well, there is that other thing, but she’s resolved to put that in the back of her mind for now. She needs to finish her business with Graham first.

It makes Regina wonder when everyone around her started becoming a checklist. Dealt with Graham? Check. Dealt with Robin? Next. Mother? God, the last thing she wants to think about now is her mother. And yet, Cora has slithered through the cracks once more like the snake she is. And Regina’s thoughts follow her right back down the rabbit hole she came from, wondering where Cora is and if she’s okay, or if she’s passed yet—no, Mal would call if that’d happened—and it makes her fret a little bit. Her neck dampens slightly and tingles move along her spine. She can feel the full on panic coming.

“Hey,” Graham whispers tenderly, reaching for her hand to ground her back to reality. “Where are you?”

She pauses, then grumbles something that sounds like, “Wonderland.”

The creases in Graham’s forehead deepen and his eyebrows marry. “You okay?”

No. No, she’s not okay. But she doesn’t have the nerve to say it yet. It lingers on her tongue, that bite, that seething anger, but it won’t push forward enough to just say what’s on her mind. She’s not sure why she stalls but no matter how much she just wants to snap back that, “she’s not okay because he’s screwing someone else,” her own body betrays her.

“I’m fine,” she mutters bitterly to herself, but loud enough that he can hear.

He doesn’t buy it, tipping his head sideways to scan her. “I’m worried about you,” he tells her.

“Why?”

“Because you called yesterday and sounded like somebody had died and today you still look the same, so I’m worried. What’s wrong, Regina? What’s going on?”

The comment about someone dying gets to her. She creates two concurrent images in her head at once. The first is of her mother lying in a hospital bed, looking pale and pitiful. Her skin is this frightening alabaster color with a tint of blue just beneath the surface, and it is shriveled and dried, manifesting death in its folds. The whites of her eyes have gone all red and her lips are thin, dried and cracked. Regina can even distinctly hear the sound of her coughing.

The second is of Graham taking Emma Swan by the hand and guiding her toward the bed with a surreptitious and smug smile resting against his features. Regina envisions his hands trailing up the blonde’s body—his fingers trace her silhouette, just as he’d once done to Regina. And those two images somehow unlock Pandora’s box together. Her anger rages a little thicker and she finds that conviction she’d been longing for.

She takes a deep breath through her nostrils and sighs out, “Lots of things are wrong Graham.”

“Okay… so tell me. You’ve got to talk to me, Regina,” he patronizes and it only annoys her more.

She sets her fork down and glances bitterly at her salad. Her eyes follow around the circle of tiny mozzarella slices. She counts them. One… two… three… However, the counting doesn’t soothe her. Her anger will consume her one way or another. But then, she starts laughing, and it startles them both. She hates the sound because it is sour and dark, lacking the poise she’d spent so long trying to build up. It echoes her frustration and bares the necrotizing parts of her feelings. She really hates Graham. And she hates her mother. And she hates Robin and Emma Swan and everyone who led her to this mess. But most of all she hates herself for walking blindly into it.

She’d spent her entire life trying to run away from messes, settling for the occasional petty office drama—that she can handle, but not this convoluted mix of issues that have begun to overlap and consume the majority of her life. Phoenix had been enough drama to last her a lifetime, but this new mire is borderline unnecessary—a cruel joke set up by he universe to test her. Maybe that’s why she finds it so funny. After all, the fact that she cannot seem to escape drama to save her life _is_ rather hysterical.

When she’s able to control her laughter, she answers him, “I don’t know, Graham, where would you like to start?”

He looks puzzled but she continues.

Her anger just bubbles up out of her and she cannot stop it. “How about we start with the fact that yes, yesterday I called because someone _is_ dying. My mother called yesterday to inform me that she has terminal cancer—” her voice cracks slightly “—and has roughly six months to live.  And I was upset because that bitch has the audacity to call me and want to ‘make amends,’” she spits those words as if they were venom, “after _ruining_ my entire life. She thinks that I’m going to just fly all the way over there because what—I’m supposed to feel sorry for her now?—screw that! Why should I? She never cared about me. She never loved me. But still, I feel awful anyway and I pity her anyway because she is still my mother after all. And despite everything _, I_ still love _her_. And now I’m going through all these emotions by myself because I can’t count on anyone! I have no one.”

She takes a moment to swallow more tears that threaten to surface and it’s just a big enough window to let him talk.

“Regina, I’m sorry if I had known—”

She barks another cold, short laugh to cut him off. “You would’ve what? Stopped fucking Emma Swan long enough to come to my rescue?”

The whole of the room changes after she says it. The air tightens, any extraneous sound has silenced itself and Graham sits before her dumbfounded. He leans forward, then backward, and looks as if he’s trying to come up with something.

But all he manages to say is the one thing she doesn’t think she’d hear him say first. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly.

She’s taken aback but it doesn’t take much for her to recollect herself. “Sorry, you did it or sorry you got caught, Graham?” she accuses.

He refuses to glance upward to look her in the eye but her eyes are deadlocked on him, daring him to face her. He remains adamant, though, fixated on his lap. His fingers nip at the tablecloth and she assumes he’s waiting for her to start yelling, but she realizes she doesn’t have much to say. What’s done is done. No amount of screaming or crying is going to take back the fact that he slept with another woman, nor will it absolve Regina of her kiss with Robin. They’ve committed their sins and now they have to journey through their lives with it.

She just sits there and stares at him and wonders how something that started off so fun and flirtatious disintegrated into something so poisoned and rotten. Even though she’d meant to keep it simple and detached, somewhere along the way, Regina started expecting more for herself, and that only led to her feelings getting hurt. Deep down, she rather liked the idea of getting serious with Graham, but she should’ve seen their relationship unraveling at the seams. And now there’s Robin and that was messed up from the get go. Maybe that was for the best, though—her relationship with Robin not even getting the chance to leave the ground.

God, that was such an awful mistake. She shouldn’t have kissed him. She should never have kissed him. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Graham is still distastefully quiet and the silence of the whole room weighs on Regina’s every limb. And she doesn’t really know how to put an end to it. Should she just get up and leave? Should she just wait for him to say something? But what’s there left to say?

Regina lays both palms flat against the table and begins to hoist herself out of her chair. It’s time to put them both out of their misery.

But Graham stands, too, saying, “Wait.”

Regina stops mid-stand and finds an apologetic and pathetic looking Graham finally meeting her eye. She can feel that tickle of pity for him skitter across her chest, just briefly, before he makes the mistake of opening his mouth again.

“How did you find out?” he inquires, the worry only deepening on his face.

Weirdly, Regina feels a sudden spell of protection over Emma Swan. She could easily sell her out to Graham—it’s not like she doesn’t deserve it—but for some reason, Regina feels herself hesitate. Emma has been nothing but a thorn in her side for the short time that they’ve known each other, but even Regina knows that Emma is a misguided young girl, who stupidly followed her heart, much like Regina, and they just both happened to be led to the same man. That doesn’t necessarily mean that Regina forgives her, but at least, Emma had the decency to tell the truth, and to Regina’s face, no less. Plus, what happens now between Graham and Emma is their business. Secretly, Regina hopes for the young blonde that she will gain some self-respect and leave Graham, but again, it’s not her business, and she’s not about to make it her business either.

She sighs heavily, “Why does that matter Graham? It’s not like someone telling me the truth is going to misplace any of your guilt.”

He goes to say something, but she cuts him off, “You made your choices. I found out about it. End of story. But, maybe, don’t choose a place that our mutual friends frequent to take your bit on the side. Or, I don’t know, maybe don’t have a bit on the side, but…” She shrugs grandiosely.

Graham looks stumped, unable to respond aside from nonsensical chunks of sounds that don’t make any real words.

Regina knows she needs to put an end to it once and for all. It’s over anyway. They’ve done what they had to and they’ve said what they need to, all that’s left is to say goodbye.

It feels like a fist has clutched onto her chest and bunched it, as if it were a piece of cloth. This should be easy, walking away, but it still hurts her just enough, anyway. She can feel that fist tug her backward, as she turns away from Graham and heads toward the door, but she fights against it hard. It feels just like swimming against a current, but this current can’t weigh her down. She won’t be weak and she snorts as the thought of 'Did I finally make you proud, Mother?' floats into her head.

“Regina,” Graham calls after her again and she stops, but doesn’t turn. “I really am sorry I hurt you. It’s just you’ve been so distant lately and now I know why and not that I’m blaming you but I just felt alone and I acted out and I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry. We were drunk and I was upset at the way we left things and Emma was there and—and—”

Regina can feel another surge of anger. She didn’t need the details and she certainly didn’t want them. Suddenly, it’s made it all real. Graham cheated on her. She’s never going to see him again after this moment unless fate’s twisted sense of humor gets a go at them. This is really the end. This is the end of a chapter in her life and the segue into the next. Goodbye, Graham. Hello, whatever is coming.

Regina notices her fists are clenched and quickly relaxes her hands, then turns to calmly respond. “Shit happens, Graham. You screw up sometimes and there’s nothing you can do about it. All you can do is accept it, learn to live with it, and maybe even, learn from it.” She feels another urge to rise and defend Emma, so she continues with, “So, don’t do the same thing to her. We can yell and scream and try and work this through or we can just cut our losses and learn from it.”

“There’s no fixing this, then?” he pouts somberly.

“No,” she answers without skipping a beat, “there is no fixing this.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, peeping downward at his toes.

“I know,” she murmurs softly, “Me too.”

That’s it. That’s her last line, the cue for her exit. She takes one final glance over Graham, mourning the memories that she’s laying to rest with him, and then, makes her way to the door, shuffling out quietly and closing the door, and this chapter, behind her.

[:]

She realizes her chest feels extremely heavy when she returns to her apartment. She tries to expel some of the weight with a deep exhale, as she falls onto the inside of her door. Her eyes venture across the room, taking in the stale atmosphere left behind from her sweet moment with Robin and her less than sweet moment with Emma Swan. Eventually, they find a few droplets of blood resting on the floor. Explaining that to Mr. Poseidon, her Super, will certainly be fun—that means Regina won’t be having Suly over any time soon. More importantly, it reminds her, as she lifts her left foot and curls her finger inside the heel of her shoe to rip it off, that she still has to clean up the glass she left on the kitchen floor.

But she lingers on the door for a moment longer, staring down the couch where she nursed Robin’s foot. She has an itch to follow up on that and make sure his foot is okay, but she knows that’s just jumping right back down the rabbit hole. She needs to pull it together, focus on something else, anything else.

She could delve deeper into work but she already has her lesson plans written for August and the majority of September. David gave her an early peek at district plans before anyone else. She doesn’t know why he’s so nice to her—she assumes it’s probably under Mary Margaret’s influence, because David’s wife has always seemed to have an affinity for quietly caring about Regina, which is not something that’s wanted, but is nevertheless received anyway. Then again, it has its perks, like the early peeks and the occasional crumb of inside information.

Either way, it puts Regina two months ahead of schedule. She could finish her September plans, she supposes, but what she really needs is a hobby, something fun that eats away at a lot of her time. Except, the only thing she really likes to do, outside of work, is reading, and while she just finished the Outlander series, she wants to soak it all in before picking up a new series.

She could try television, but most of them end up being predictable and/or outrageous. She could pick up baking, but what good would that do with no one around to eat it? What are the odds that she could make Robin muffin baskets and still make him believe it’s for no other reason than preoccupation—and definitely not for sex?

She has to stop this.

She forcefully sends her head backward into the door and immediately regrets it, but knows deep down, it’s well deserved.

Maybe she should just pick up sewing and knit sweaters and blankets for the less fortunate children in her classroom. She quickly thinks of Henry, who doesn’t come in looking filthy like some children she’s had before, but she has noticed that he only has about four total outfits and will sometimes wear the same shirt back to back. It’s baffling to her, truly. She doesn’t understand how there are people in the world who purposefully take on the role of caregiver, only to do everything but caregiving.

From what Regina has gotten to know of Zelena West, she assumes the woman is in it simply for the money, but it doesn’t ease the burden on Regina’s heart. How can people be so selfish, that they use an innocent child (and, in this case, two) just to profit off of them? Children should never go through life feeling unwanted. Cora had never impressed such a message on Regina, but thankfully her father had. He’d always made sure Regina felt loved, wanted, safe and secure and that is a legacy she wants to continue until the end of her days.

That’s where she needs to focus her attention. She needs to just concentrate on making sure her students are getting all the love and assistance they need. And she plans to start with Henry Cassidy. She won’t let him fall through the cracks like the system has tried to let him. He’s already a grade behind, with an attitude problem (not that she really blames him for having it) and a feeble desire to make friends. She’s got to give him that push he needs to become a better student and a better person.

She nods proudly to herself as she mentally reviews her plan and then quickly compares it to any of the other horrendous ideas she’d had when she first came home. Then she gives herself another confirmatory nod and launches herself finally off the door. Her fingers nick the heels off of the floor and she walks over to the couch to pick up the bandages and antiseptic, to take them all back to her room. And when she completes that task, she decides she wants to clean altogether.

Cleaning always makes her feel better. It’s like scrubbing at dirt and grime also scrubs away at her stressors and insecurities. Yes, cleaning is what she needs, now. Even if it is getting close to 9.

She starts in the bathroom, scrubbing the sink, toilet and shower. Her phone has been pulled out and she’s opened up her cleaning playlist, which usually involves a lot of dance moves to be incorporated in her chores. She scrubs and sweeps and even mops every inch of the bathroom. Then, it’s out to her room, where she also sweeps and mops. Her bed gets remade properly. Her drawers get cleaned out some more and she even throws away the wilting flowers. The dressers get dusted and the miscellaneous items atop them are organized. She straightens her shoes in the bottom of her closet, as well.

Then she moves to the living room and tidies every inch she can find, especially making sure any trace of Robin’s blood has been removed as best as it can be. It’s not even noticeable by the time she gets it out of the hardwood foyer and scrubs hard at the three little droplets on the carpet, right next to the couch.

All that’s left is the kitchen, which, besides the bathroom, is going to need the most work anyway. She dances her way to the entrance of the kitchen, but she comes to a complete stop, when she sees what’s inside. Her eye almost immediately spots the bags of food that are resting on the counter. It stutters the rhythm of her heart in her chest as she realizes where they came from. She certainly hadn’t picked it up, which means there is only one other person who could have brought that food to her apartment.

She figures that he must have done it while she was sleeping. He went out of his way to surprise her with food. The seed of a small smile is planted on her lips and it blooms rather quickly, as the sentiment registers. Robin really cares for her. Maybe, she’s misjudged him. He was telling the truth yesterday when he said that he only wants to take care of her and remind her that she deserves to be happy. So, he had a brief, selfish moment of weakness—can she really begrudge him that? Their chemistry is undeniable and his care is unwavering.

Oh, screw this.

She unlocks her phone and goes straight to her call log to find Robin’s name. But before she can get there, she spies Mal’s name and she is reminded of Phoenix again. Her mind erases all her romanticized thoughts of Robin and replaces them with images of sick Cora, much like the ones she’d imagined up earlier at diner with Graham.

Her life is in shambles. And starting a new relationship isn’t going to fix that. She’s spent the better part of the last couple of hours dancing out those frustrations and reminding herself that she is capable of handling this mess she’s gotten herself into. She’d convinced herself to abstain from dating and focus on work, especially on the children. That can’t change just because she’s found two bags of greasy fast food. Besides, if she really does care for Robin, or even just respects how much he cares for her, then she knows that bringing him into a relationship with her now is unfair.  She needs to get her own shit together before she can pile it onto someone else.

However, that doesn’t stop Regina from still considering making the call. She impatiently taps her, now relocked, screen with her nail, slamming her thumb down harder each time, and chews hard enough on her lip to nearly draw blood.

It’s a bad decision that will only lead to poorer consequences, but she wants to hear his voice and she’s already resolved herself to no dating. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be friends.

They can be friends, right?

Oh, what the hell? She re-unlocks her phone and clicks his contact without a second thought. The phone rings and rings. She hadn’t even considered that maybe he doesn’t want to speak to her. Not that he really has a right to feel that way. He did betray her trust.

Her eyes dart over to his picture on the refrigerator and she analyzes the shaky sketch lines, just as she’s done before. It really isn’t even that good of a drawing but it’s still the sentiment that makes her happy. She tips her head sideways and admires it blissfully, but it’s cut short by Robin’s voicemail.

“Hey, you got Robin. Sorry I missed your call. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks.”

She doesn’t even bother trying to prevent her wistful sigh that slips out. Her bottom lip pokes out just slightly and she feels the need to physically kick herself in accompaniment to her mental kicking. Honestly, what was she expecting, anyway? She threw him out of her apartment this afternoon, and she expects him to just come running back with open arms the moment she calls?

Regina begrudgingly sits her phone on the counter and reaches for the broom and dustpan, resting on the wall outside of the kitchen.  She might as well get back to cleaning. She hits play on her phone and the kitchen is once again filled with music. September comes on and before she knows it, she’s back in her own groove, pushing thoughts of Robin away, and constantly using her broom as a microphone. Her neighbors probably don’t appreciate it, but if they knew what a cleanse she needs they’d probably join her. So, she yells the lyrics and prances around while sweeping the glass and dirt into a pile.

She tries not to think on how the wine glass ended up in shards on the floor, but the memory is perseverant.

She was a little tipsy already from her outing with the girls. They’d grabbed a quick bite to eat at a diner and then went to the bar for a few drinks. They—or well, Regina, at least—insisted that they go somewhere other than the Rabbit Hole. She didn’t want Robin to think that she was stalking him. She didn’t tell her friends that, but they obliged her request anyway and they went over to The Tavern, an Irish-based pub.

It was small and quaint and looked modernly medieval inside. Everything was wooden—the bar top, the pillars, the tables and the stools. And there were mostly hefty, bearded men inside yelling at the television that had some soccer (or “football”) game on. Tinka was the one who’d suggested it, telling them that she and Killian actually frequented it a lot. Regina actually liked it. It gave off a different vibe than the Rabbit Hole and she felt better there—less weighed down by alcohol and sleazy men, even though The Tavern was crawling with both, but it wasn’t as overwhelming. Regina’s favorite part, though, was their house ale, which tasted almost carmel-ly and sweet, but still maintained the bitter taste of beer just beneath the surface. She drank _three_ of them, letting the alcohol lick at her wounds. Tinka had two and Kathryn had a half of one. Regina had tried to keep her pity party going as long as possible, but they’d cut her off at three, reminding her that they had to work tomorrow. That’d only made her upset and she was ornery from that point on, and it wasn’t long afterward that Kathryn decided to take her home.

When they returned to the apartment, her friend had invited herself inside and Regina didn’t really care. She just plopped down on the sofa and ignored Kathryn’s presence. But if there’s one outstanding trait that that Kathryn Midas ever had, it was being stubborn, so she’d waited patiently for Regina to say something. Unfortunately for Kathryn, however, that was a trait they had in common.

Kathryn had caved first. “What’s gotten into you, Regina?”

Regina remembers taking a very heavy (and unnecessary) offense to that. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Kathryn had that patronizing look on her face that always got under Regina’s skin. Nevermind that there was worry all over Kathryn’s face, as well, but she chose to ignore it to stoke her own fire.

“I just—this isn’t like you, Regina. And I can tell something is bothering y—”

“Nothing is bothering me!” she’d cut her off loudly.

“Bullshit, Regina,” Kathryn fired back at equal volume. She usually isn’t one to curse a lot. Crap and shoot are her favorite words, but Regina has hardly ever heard actual curse words come out of Kathryn’s mouth, which is why she was thrown for a loop and gave just enough space in the conversation to allow Kathryn to continue on her rant.

“You’ve been in a sour mood for awhile, which is usually not atypical for you, seeing as you are in a perpetual bad mood 24/7, but lately you’ve been in an _extra_ bad mood. I noticed it today and I’ve noticed it a few other days, too. Something is genuinely wrong and I don’t really give a crap if you haven’t noticed, but the rest of us have and I’m worried about you, Regina.

“This,” she’d waved her hand up and down to demonstrate, “is not you. You don’t go get drunk on school nights, you don’t take phone calls in the middle of the school day and then return looking like the Grim Reaper chewed you up and spit you out again, and you surely don’t yell at me. Sure, I can take your biting sarcasm, but tonight has been nothing but snapping and nasty digs for no reason. I don’t know what’s wrong, but Regina whatever it is, it’s affecting you, and we can all see it. Just tell me what’s wrong and we can work it out together, okay?”

Regina was hearing what her friend said, but all she could think about was how Robin had said nearly the same thing that afternoon, but claimed Kathryn was incapable of such a thing. It almost made her laugh. If only Kathryn knew that she’d given a whole speech just proving some self-righteous ass wrong.

Deep down, Regina knew that train of thought was only to disguise that it actually touched her that she had two people in her camp, two people who she could lean on… two people she could disappoint. And that was like a switch inside of her getting flipped on. She was so close to confessing the truth to Kathryn. She’d nearly yielded and purged everything about Phoenix and her dying mother and Graham’s distance, but when she realized that Kathryn was one of the only two people in the world she couldn’t bear having look at her differently, she stopped and her defenses went up.

Perhaps, that’s why she’d kicked Robin out, too. Not because he’d betrayed her, but because she was afraid of how he’d change his mind after he knew the truth.

She’d gotten up from the couch and sauntered past Kathryn to walk toward the kitchen, where she grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass and began pouring it. Regina wasn’t even planning to drink it. She’d had enough alcohol, that much she could admit to herself. And honestly, she had recognized that her drinking habits had upped a bit—and her metabolism isn’t what it used to be. But she poured the glass, anyway, keeping her eyes locked on Kathryn’s as she did it.

That’s when she saw it, a flicker of the look she was trying to avoid. It flew across Kathryn’s features just briefly but long enough for Regina to catch it and feel the sting of it. Her friend, then, shook her head and turned to leave.

But Kathryn had stopped just short of the door to turn back to Regina and remind her, “I really care about you, Regina. So do Ti and Ariel and Belle and Rory. Don’t lose sight of that, okay? Sleep it off and we’ll talk tomorrow or something.” Then she was gone.

The next thing Regina heard was the shatter of glass on tile.

Regina is so preoccupied with her self-loathing over the Kathryn thing that she tunes out the music and subsequently when it stops in order to vibrate against the counter. It slides and slides closer to the edge as she sweeps the glass into the dustpan and tunes into the tinkle of the shards colliding. But, she’s fortunate to rise from her crouching position just before the phone reaches the brink of the counter.

“Whoa,” she yelps and throws out her hand to grab it as it makes its descent. That attunes her to the silence—or lack thereof, as the music begins once again when the phone lands in her palm. But the screen is occupied by the tell of Robin’s missed call. The disheartened burden on her chest eases in favor of a newly found elation. But even the excitement is tinted with worry. Should she call him back? What if he only accidentally called back? Or what if he only called back as a formality?

She’s reading too much into this. She should just call back and if he answers cordially, then she’ll make up some butt dialing excuse or something. If he seems more receptive to the phone call, then she’ll simply go with her original plan. Her phone zips back to redialing and her phone begins to ring.

But when the line is picked up, Robin doesn’t speak. Typical.

She supposes the responsibility is up to her. “Uh, hi,” she says quietly into the receiver as she backs into the counter.

His voice is equally as soft when he returns a gentle, “Hi.”

There’s silence for a beat before Regina decides to go with her original plan. She glances over at the bags of food, counting the grease spots on the side that she can see. The tickle of a fake laugh starts in her throat but she coughs it back down but tries to hold onto the biting wit that was going to come with it.

“It looks as if you accidentally left two bags of grease in my house,” she tries her best to sound teasing, even adding in that fake laugh she’d fought against milliseconds before.

“Yes, well, I figured that you could use the grease to get the twig that’s up your arse out.” It isn’t accusatory or spiteful, the way he says it—it’s a joke, which she’s incredibly grateful for at the moment. She could use a tension relaxer.

“Is that right?”

“Mhm,” he hums his answer.

“Who says chivalry is dead?” she laughs.

“I rather like going against the flow.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she tints the statement with a little disdain.

His breathy chuckle precedes another awkward silence. And that flicker of pain in her chest, that she thought she’d ridded herself of at Graham’s, reignites. It gets heavier and anchors her to where she stands, as she waits in agonizing anticipation for Robin’s next comment.

She considers telling him that he’s forgiven. Honestly, she wasn’t even that angry in the first place. Well, she was, but most of it wasn’t even directed at Robin. Most of it was for Graham and Emma Swan, then a little bit for herself and then a smidge for Robin. But even that sliver of anger has whittled itself down into almost nothing. She’s only being stubborn at this point, too defensive of the heart that already wants Robin back.

“You can keep it,” he finally says with reluctance blurring around the edges—and not over the food, but the dwindling conversation, she knows because she feels it, too.

“Good,” she replies, trying to mirror the same reluctance in her own voice to clue him in that she feels the same. “I haven’t gotten to actually eat tonight anyway.”

A soft, nearly inaudible _oh_ comes from his end and then, “how’d that go?”

She sighs. “About like you think it would.”

“Well, that’s great, then!”

It throws her for a second. “Wait, huh?”

“I just figured you roll up in there, being the badass that you are, and pulling all his shit out of his chest of drawers and lighting it on fire and then you tell him he’s a piece of shit and then he cries like a bitch baby, while you storm out to some women empowerment power ballad.”

Regina maps out the image he designs in her head and she can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it totally went something like that.” If only it had.

“I don’t doubt that,” he repeats her earlier quip, but with a boyishly goofy nature that hers lacked.

The pauses between each quip are enough to make anyone uncomfortable and especially weighs on Regina more heavily with each gap. Why did she let this come between them?

“Regina,” he tries unobtrusively.

“Yeah?”

“You deserve better.”

She doesn’t know if he means it about Graham or himself or both of them but it touches her that he respects her feelings even if him disrespecting them is what got them in this mess in the first place. It reminds her that he’s human and full of fault, but so is everyone else. Hell, she’s as flawed as they come. And it’s not like she’s been totally and completely honest with him, either. At least, he had the intentions to be honest.

“You’re one of the good ones, Locksley.”

Robin scoffs. “I dunno about that.”

“No, you are,” she reaffirms, nodding even though she knows he can’t see it.

“I’m sorry,” he responds solemnly. She understands now that his statement before was more in reference to him than Graham. It makes sense—Graham is irrelevant to Robin, and the only tie that they have is what happened earlier—but it still makes Regina ache and it takes a piece from her, gnawing away at the final bits of anger that remain and leaving nothing but hurt behind.

She doesn’t really want Robin hurting any more than she wants her own feelings hurt. Even if she can’t fully admit it to him, she wants nothing more than Robin to be happy. She cares about him… a lot. In fact, he might be the first person that she’s cared about this much since Daniel or her father. Everyone else, she’s pushed away or driven out because she didn’t want them getting to close.

 _Love is weakness_ , that’s something she’d adopted from Cora. And maybe, there is some truth to her mother’s mantra but Robin has planted a seed in Regina that grew in affection, rather than fear. Perhaps, Cora is completely wrong. Love only makes you weak if you let it. Regina kept people at a distance and they still hurt her. But the truth is, she is the one who’s been hurting herself all along. It’s not that she actually blames herself for Graham being a selfish, cheating bastard, but maybe, if she hadn’t tried so hard to keep him at arm’s length, they might have been able to have something good.

Of course, it was a blessing in disguise all along, anyway, because it led her to someone who is far superior to Graham and has been nothing but caring and compassionate to her. He’s a light in her darkness, a beacon of hope, the cusp of a good life and a happier time in her life. And as much as she’s tried to dismiss him, he’s been steadfast and determined. He’s dedicated himself to caring for her, even when she’s adamantly refused it.

Her eyes glance over to the two bags of food and she can feel her eyes water (as well as, her mouth). She can’t understand how someone as good and gracious as Robin Locksley can be as good to her as he is. Regina doesn’t deserve it. And that’s why she keeps trying to push him away. With others, it’s always been easy. He was right when he said that about Graham and Kathryn—one cheated on her and the other isn’t even speaking to her. But Robin has been different from the start. He’s irritatingly stubborn but she likes him that way, because it means he cares. And even if she isn’t sure why he is, she likes it, anyway.

Her resolution to the matter finally emerges amongst the other white noise. It’s like the noise you don’t hear until you tune into it or the thing you don’t see until you’re looking for it. But now it’s there clear as day—Robin is the first person in Regina’s life since those she knew before Phoenix, that she wants to do right by, that she wants to commit to in life (whether that be as friends or as more than that). She doesn’t want to push him away anymore. She doesn’t want to alienate him anymore.

She kissed him. And he kissed her back. They could date, they could fall in love, they could get married. She actually doesn’t mind the thought of it either. He’s there, he’s into her. Why should she refuse what she wants—what they both want?

Regina knows why and she’s been avoiding it through her entire reverie and even earlier when she was kissing Robin. There’s a reason she’s kept people at a distance all this time and it isn’t just for her own selfish protection. She’s protecting them, too, because she doesn’t want to let them down—not only in the present, but also, if they were to find out about Phoenix. But with every other person, it’s been easy to push them away and it’s been easier to _want_ to push them away. Robin, on the other hand has made it an extremely trying task all around. She can’t seem to push him away, no matter how hard she tries, and now, she knows that she doesn’t even really want to push him away. And the whole irony of it all is that Robin is the last person she wants to disappoint. Sure, he’d most likely be the most trustworthy person with her secrets, especially Phoenix, but she just doesn’t want to have to face his complete and utter disappointment when he finds out about the horrible things she’s done.

A part of her secretly wishes she’d never met Robin so that she could play out her miserable life the way she was meant to, being perpetually punished by the universe, in being cast into the dark shadows of her sins. Maybe this is all a test. To see if she’ll finally dare to step out into the light, even though both she and the universe know that she will only get burnt out there. Then there’s the chance that Robin will be the one to get burned.

She can’t have that, she won’t have that. But she can’t push him away either, and she won’t push him away. How can she do this so that they both come out alive and happy?

Regina sighs and contemplates her next response carefully. It has to mean something and it has to leave both of them with a little hope that everything is going to be okay. And she settles for, “I know you are. I’m not even angry with you, to be perfectly honest. I just need some space and some time to sort some things out on my own, okay?”

“Okay,” he answers barely above a whisper, a twinge of sadness echoing after the word.

“I meant what I said. You’re one of the good ones.”

“So are you. You just have to open your eyes to see it.”

She smiles softly to herself and finally gets the courage to abandon the counter she’s been leaning on (and not without a little pain from the imprint now left in her lower back). Her feet carry her to the couch, where she plops down, picks up the remote from the coffee table and flips her screen over to Netflix.

“Goodnight, Robin,” she bids him just as the gentle sounds of Moon River begin to play from the TV.

She thinks she hears him chuckle, whether that be in response to the movie or because she avoided what he said, she doesn’t know, but then, he answers in kind, “Goodnight, my huckleberry friend,” and she laughs.

When she hangs up, she just sits for a little while and watches the movie, but her night doesn’t end until the bags of grease have been emptied and she is resolute on how to live with Robin Locksley as a part of her world.


	12. Chapter Eleven Part Two

There’s only one thing more unbearable about Robin Locksley than his mouth, and that’s when nothing is coming out of it. They’ve started a routine, one that mostly involves avoiding each other, but should they have to speak to one another, it’s usually a simple greeting and then speeding off in opposite directions. It started the day afterward when Regina had returned to school. She’d gotten to school early in hopes that she could avoid Robin altogether for the day, but it seems he had the same plan in mind. It’s all a blurry mix of awkward salutations and cringe-worthy staring, but it’s been their new normal since that fateful day in her apartment.

He’s giving her space- just as she asked- but, suddenly, she regrets ever making the stupid decision in the first place. Honestly, she misses him, but while it makes her feel ridiculous, she can’t control the empty pang that goes off every time she sees him pass her in the hall with no word, making sure to avoid eye contact.

She misses his jokes and the foolish nonsense that he always seemed to have on hand. But, mostly, she just misses him. She’s lonely without him. Of course, she has Kathryn and Tinka and the other girls, but she really misses Robin. She misses them being together and hanging out. She’s happy that he’s respected her wishes, but for once, she wishes that he’d be as stubborn as he usually is.

Then again, _she_ could just make a move, but she’s scared to do anything that could have a possibly bad outcome. She’s afraid to move, she’s afraid to breathe anytime she comes into close proximity with Robin. Much like today at their staff meeting, where they’re all stuffed into the conference room to discuss the upcoming festivities—mainly Halloween, given that it’s just shy of a month away. He’s sitting diagonally from her, talking to Belle and Liam Jones, the brother of Tinka’s boyfriend and the reason Tinka and Killian met in the first place.

Not that Regina has been spying or anything, but she’s noticed that Belle and Robin have gotten closer. She’s seen them several times together in the cafeteria, the office and the halls. And last week, Belle went out to his car duty even though she doesn’t have car duty. Regina’s tried not to get jealous because she knows it could be totally innocent and it’s not like she and Robin are an item—hell, they aren’t even speaking. But she’d be lying if she said that she isn’t slightly worried that Belle French could be his _new_ Regina, the one he spends all his time chasing after and caring for.

Her face heats up in embarrassment and she quickly glances around to make sure no one has noticed the pink tint blooming across her cheeks. But no one is even looking in her direction. Although, to be fair, there aren’t many people in the room to begin with. The meeting doesn’t start for another 20 minutes but Regina didn’t feel like sitting around her classroom doing nothing. Plus, she wants to show initiative, in hopes that David will consider her for the assistant principal position next year.

When her eyes circle back around the room before returning to her smart phone, her eyes do find another pair on her. She doesn’t even have to be completely looking at him to know that they belong to Robin. But she turns back swiftly to him and sure enough, she’s caught his eye. He’s left his conversation with Belle and Liam and is simply just watching her. He looks awkwardly at her before settling on a crooked smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. She smiles back in kind, but he only looks away, down toward the conference room table.

She hates this. She _really_ hates this. This is not what she wants at all.

She watches, as he pulls out his phone, most likely to give him any excuse not to look back in her direction. But it gives her an idea. Her attention returns to her own phone where she skims over to her messages and finds her conversation with Robin.

It’s now or never.

_Hi_ , she types.

It’s simple. There’s nothing to read into, nothing to get confused about, and yet, she knows it’s a bad plan. She shouldn’t be texting him, especially in a staff meeting (or pre-staff meeting), but she misses him. It’s only been a better part of two weeks and she misses Robin and she might not ever say that point blank but deep down she knows that’s how she feels.

Her finger hovers over the send button for several minutes before plucking up the courage to hit it. And then it’s off in the universe, seeking out its recipient.

She waits impatiently and even gets the courage to glance up at him to see if he got it. She tries to read his mind and decipher whether he’s gotten it, and if he is deciding whether he wants to ignore or respond, or if he just hasn’t received it at all. But she really needn’t because the moment he does receive the text, his head snaps upward to look at her.

This time neither of them looks away. In fact, Regina makes sure to hold her gaze steady to assure Robin that she meant to send the text. His Adam’s apple bobs hard up and down his throat with a thick swallow.

She does the same and bites her lip, unable to help it and asks with her eyes if he’s going to respond.

God, she shouldn’t be this nervous.

Robin finally looks down at his phone, then back up at Regina, then once again at his phone. He slowly picks it up and types and Regina lets out a quiet whoosh of air.

Seconds later, her phone lights up with a notification. And Robin’s eyes are back to studying her.

_Hi_ , is all he’s typed back.

Regina had literally just told herself, only moments ago, that the salutation was nothing but simple, and yet, here she is analyzing every side of the word. She stares down at the two letters that are now consuming her every thought.

She muses on them, trying to decipher if the hi is the gateway to exploring their friendship again or if he simply just wants to see what she wants. She wonders if it annoys him, her constant push and pull—it would certainly drive her crazy, but what effect does it have on him? Maybe Belle is better for him, simpler, less dramatic. It makes her ache in all the worst places thinking of him wooing another woman, but at least, he’d be happy, right? She really wants that. She wants him to be happy. Happy Robin is her priority.

_U ok?_  He sends a few seconds later after she doesn’t respond, and when she looks at him, he’s squeezing his eyes shut and cringing, probably regretting sending multiple messages.

But it puts a smile on Regina’s face because, at least, he cares. The only problem, now, though, isn’t Robin—it’s Regina, because she hadn’t quite thought through the next part of the conversation. And it’s mostly because she has no idea what she wants. Did she initiate the conversation in hopes that they could rekindle their friendship or is it for more than that? It makes her smile slowly slip into a frown.

There’s another ping.

_??_

He’s looking back at her now, watching as she nervously peruses her screen. Her eyes stay deadlocked on his as she types, _Yeah, I’m ok._

He stalls, then, she knows he’s waiting for her to say something, to tell him what exactly it is that she needs.

_Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you…_ she types quickly in a separate message.

_Yeah, don’t do it again,_ he answers with the winking/tongue out emoji and a happier crooked smile in person—and this one almost does reach his eyes.

_Haha_.

There’s a pause in their conversation that lasts several minutes and Regina nearly concludes that that’s it. Maybe she gave it all she had and that wasn’t enough. She feels another pang in the pit of her stomach, which resonates through the rest of her body. She lost something that could’ve been good. She wants to tell herself that Robin screwed up something that could’ve been good, but she knows the truth.

But, perhaps, hope is not totally lost on them, yet, because Robin texts her again. And when she reads it, her heart takes the express lane down to her belly. But she doesn’t even have time to process it as more teachers finally come clamoring into the conference room. The meeting is only for K through 2nd because they’ll be throwing parties for the holidays, while 3rd though 5th will have Halloween and Christmas dances, but that means almost everyone has arrived and the meeting will be starting any minute.

Kathryn still hasn’t shown up, so Regina reads the message again. She swallows, hard enough to start a cough, but she’s never been so happy to be hacking up her chest, because the text is one that she’s wanted to hear (or read) all this time.

She reads it again.

_I miss you._

He misses her, which means that he still cares and there might still be a chance that they can salvage what they started. But she can’t screw this up, and that means that she needs to salvage what they originally had—their friendship. She needs to take baby steps and, at least, repair their friendship, and with any hope, in the future, their relationship—if he wants one, that is. But reading his message that he misses her fuels the need to keep him in her life, first and foremost.

They once again lock eyes and she notes how his are soft and hopeful. She doesn’t really know what hers say but they’re probably a mix of confusion and bewilderment.

She types her answer measuredly, choosing each letter carefully. It’s almost like she hopes she typed something differently when she’s finished because she’s surprised to see that the text reads, _I miss you too…_

But she sends it just in time, as David comes gallivanting into the room, with Kathryn frantically on his heels, bidding everyone a good afternoon. Regina’s friend plops down beside her and joins in on the chorus of miscellaneous greetings from the peanut gallery. But Regina is too preoccupied to notice. Her attention is still focused on Robin, who’s typing away and whose chest suddenly seems to be moving as rapidly in time with Regina’s.

Regina peeks at her phone. _I wish I could see you_ , he’d nearly answered immediately.

She forgoes analyzing anything—the pace of his responses, the wording—because all she cares about is actually talking to him, now. But she needs to pay attention to the meeting because nothing would be more mortifying than being exposed to the entire room that she’s texting her colleague some borderline romantic things during a meeting that they’re both attending.

But as David sits down his chair and squirms until he’s comfortable, Regina takes the chance to type back.

_You can see me. I’m right here. :)_

Then, _Or did my invisibility powers kick in?_

She catches a glimpse of him chuckling at the text and it puts a smile on her own face. That’s more like it.

_I meant outside of here._

Regina rolls her eyes at him, but answers with a different emotion. _I wish I could too…_

They pause their conversation, as David calls for everyone’s attention up front. He gives some perky introduction about how he hopes everyone is excited for the upcoming holidays, which elicits a few nods of approval, as well as, a few groans. Regina would be with the groaners if she wasn’t busy waiting on Robin’s answer. Robin, on the other hand, looks genuinely enthusiastic about the holidays. Poor thing is going to desperately wish he could take it back in a few months.

Her phone lights up again with a new text from Robin. She feels like she’s all the way back in high school, sending notes during class to Daniel, while the teacher obliviously taught the lesson. She misses when life was that simple. She even dares to let her heart miss Daniel for a second, but now isn’t the time to be reminiscing the past, while she might be mapping out her future.

When she reads Robin’s text, it feels as though a rock has been deposited right into the bottom of her stomach.

_You can come over tonight_ , he sends in one text and then follows with, _John won’t be there._

She stews on the text momentarily, trying to pretend as though she’s listening to David, even though she’s having an internal meltdown. She can’t go to his apartment. That has bad, bad, bad, idea written all over it. She chews nervously on her lip, while she watches David’s flap together. What is she supposed to say to him? How does she answer that?

She knows there’s only one real answer she can give, so she types her honest opinion, _I don’t think that’s a good idea…_

When she looks over at him, he looks crestfallen, but he types back quickly. He sends two texts again. The first one reads, _You’re right._

And the second, _Sorry if that sounded presumptuous_.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to hang out with him. It’s that she doesn’t trust herself to sit around Robin Locksley’s apartment, alone with him, and not want to kiss his stupid face the whole night. They need to go somewhere public where she can lay down the law.

_Oh, it’s ok. It didn’t. I just think we should do something else_ , she answers swiftly to raise his hopes back up.

Another pause comes between them and she thinks it’s for two reasons—the first being that she and Robin should be listening to the meeting because David could be saying something important (which he really isn’t at the moment—he’s only listing reminders like no homemade goods can be brought to the parties, nothing with peanuts, juice-not-soda is preferred, etc. etc.) and the second being that Robin needs to carefully consider his next move. She can see the gears turning away in his head as he contemplates his choices.

While he’s thinking, Kathryn suddenly whispers behind Regina. “Who are you texting?”

Regina shoves her phone in between her thighs and looks over her shoulder. “No one,” she hisses.

Kathryn cocks her left eyebrow up and looks dubiously at her friend.

She needs to protect Robin, especially from her crazy friends. “It’s Graham,” she lies, “I’m trying to get my stuff back.”

Kathryn and Regina had made up the minute Kathryn had heard about Graham. They are now both women scorned and Kathryn has made it her sole responsibility to “carry Regina through this difficult time.” Meanwhile, Regina hadn’t given much thought to Graham in the last couple of days. Of course, she misses him, but at the end of the day he was an ass, who immediately jumped into bed with someone else the second Regina couldn’t give him a deeply important sentiment that she was entirely not ready to give. But either way, he’s now the reason that she and Kathryn have reunited and that is the most important thing.

 “Oh, honey,” Kathryn sighs out sympathetically, giving Regina the sudden urge to smack her, but she refrains.

Her phone buzzes between her legs and she has to appear unexcited, particularly now that Kathryn thinks she’s texting Graham.

_Coffee? My treat this time, promise_ , the text reads.

Coffee is nice. Coffee is good. It’s public and gives many chances for an out. Not to mention, it doesn’t feel like a date or anything so there is no pressure. And coffee is practically a tradition for them now. Coffee is a good way for friends to talk.

Despite the friendship angle, though, Regina doesn’t pass up her opportunity to flirt, _What? You mean your latest conquest doesn’t want to support our caffeine habits?_

She watches him smirk out of the corner of her eye, but then he goes slightly serious, leaving a hint of laughter behind in his features. _Well, I’m afraid I haven’t had one in awhile… Been a little sidetracked with one lady in particular._

_Is that so?_ She side-eyes him, only to see he’s doing the same.

He nods when he types back, _Indeed_.

_How’s that going for you?_

He actually looks over at her, this time. His face scrunches up all cute and playfully angry, making her heart melt all over her chest. She doesn’t even bother stopping the stupid grin on her face, even if Kathryn is watching her.

He turns back to his phone and types away. _Well, I kinda cocked it up but I’m hoping I can maybe patch things up with her over coffee this weekend._

Regina nods and answers, _I think she might be more receptive with a latte in hand, so I’d say you’ve got a good plan._

_I hope so. How’s 10-ish?_

_10-ish is perfect._

_Perfect._

Their eyes meet again across the room. He looks happier already and that makes her happier. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t seem to peel her eyes away. She supposes she’ll just have to admire the one piece of art that is Robin’s smile, for the rest of the meeting, and she’s never been happier to do so.

[:]

She’s running a little late and she frets all the way there that Robin is going to think she bailed on their date—no, not date, just coffee—two friends hanging out in the same coffee shop. This is so messy and confusing and an all-around bad idea for them, she knows it, but she wants more than anything to try to keep him in her life.

She has to keep him in her life.

Earlier, in the sanctuary of her own apartment, she’d rehearsed what she was going to say to him. Although, she knows perfectly well that no matter how much planning went into it, the conversation is not going to go the way she imagines it. But, that’s something she likes about her relationship with Robin, in general—the surprise, the variation, the great and glorious unknown.

Ironically, that is entirely uncharacteristic of her. Usually, Regina likes order and structure. She hates surprises with a passion and she completely loathes the idea of circling in the realm of the unknown. The more knowledge about a situation she has, the more comfortable she feels. Some might call it being a control freak, but she just calls it being smart. Except with Robin, being smart seems like her smallest priority. Common sense and logic go right out the window. It’s so incredibly foolish of her because she’s throwing a bit too much caution to the wind, but all need for reason has passed when she enters her little microcosm with Robin. That’s part of the reason she’s chosen the venue. Public settings like a loud and bustling Starbucks is bound to keep her, at least, mildly grounded.

It’s not like she can’t abstain from being a complete and total idiot around Robin, it’s just that she feels less pressed about worrying about it. But today of all days, she has to be vigilant. No looking into his beautiful, deep blue eyes and changing her mind or deviating in any way from her original plan (especially, if she can control it). She’ll make amends and then offer a friendship—it’s simple and easy, only an imbecile could mess it up, and yet, she’s fearful that she’ll be said imbecile.

She continues to recite her monologue on the drive over. They’ve chosen the same Starbucks that they first went to, which, in hindsight, isn’t the best plan, or at least, won’t help the situation any, but later, after the meeting, when he’d asked her if she was okay with meeting him there, she hadn’t given it a second thought. Plus, she’s not fond of the one next to her place because they have a tendency to burn her coffee. So, the one closer to Robin (and right next to Graham’s, unfortunately) seemed to be the better option.

Regina hadn’t really entertained the idea that she could possibly run into Graham while they’re there, and of course, the thought inconveniently surfaces during her drive, causing her to nearly rear-end someone at a stoplight and almost makes her turn back. But she can’t live in constant fear of running into her exes or people she’s cut ties with. It’s what drove her out of Phoenix and if she now has to leave Albuquerque for something similar, she might as well move to the east coast—maybe to a nice beach house in the Hamptons.

But, at least, she isn’t going to the shop alone and Robin wouldn’t let her run even if she wanted to.  Plus, Graham isn’t fond of Starbucks, anyway.

She’s grateful she resolves herself to that, as she finally reaches the Starbucks and parks. She skims the parking lot for Robin’s car but she doesn’t see it anywhere. Her worry deepens and causes her throat to close up just a little. What if he thought she wasn’t coming and left? She should’ve texted him on her way there.

But, she turns off the engine and gets out of the car, in hopes that maybe he’s also just running a little late.

Surprisingly, the shop isn’t as busy as she anticipated. Then again, it is a Sunday morning and many of the churchgoers are still attending church and non-churchgoers are more than likely making a lazy day for themselves and haven’t even gotten out of bed yet. It makes the atmosphere calm and quiet. Regina quickly scans over the entire room, looking for Robin’s face, but she only finds an elderly couple chatting in the corner, a group of teenagers in the middle and a man, with silver hair and glasses, reading the newspaper, next to them.

She can feel that panic itch up her spine once more. Maybe she should text him. But, she doesn’t want to seem overly eager, so she opts for ordering her coffee and giving it a few minutes.

When the girl asks what Regina would like, she thinks back on her first trip with Robin to this Starbucks when he told her that she was high maintenance. Oh, she had loathed him so much then. It’s striking to her how much has changed in a mere three—nearly four—month period. She didn’t even believe she’d see him again after that day. Of course, she knew that she might see him in passing since he often frequented Graham’s apartment building, but she never suspected that they’d ever be as acquainted as they are now.

She orders a venti iced vanilla latte. (See, she can be not-so-high-maintenance) It’s still warm enough to get a cold drink every now and again. Truthfully, with the way the weather is now, she’ll probably be able to drink iced coffee for at least another month. 

She’s still nervous when she plops down at the one table in the opposite corner away from all the rest. It might’ve been a better idea to sit among the other patrons. Seclusion could give off the wrong impression. But, she has a good view of the door where she’s seated and she doesn’t particularly care for the others to hear their conversation, so the Isle of Isolation is where she’ll stay.

Regina tries her hardest to steady her hands as she clutches onto her cup for dear life. In the back of her mind, she’s still rehearsing her speech. Her fingers twirl her straw aimlessly, as her eyes watch for the door.

Her mental speech starts to get drowned out by her subvocalized worries. She tries to tell herself that it’s fine and that if he isn’t coming, then he’s the one without, but it actually bothers her that he hasn’t shown up.

She starts to consider leaving, starts to muster some courage to get up and walk out the door but she keeps hesitating with the hope that he’ll still show.

And the gut feeling isn’t for naught. Robin shows up, looking winded with wild eyes, quickly and distressingly looking around the shop for Regina, who throws her hand up beside her face to get his attention. When she has it, he waves and takes a step in her direction, but she shakes her head and gestures to the counter, instructing him to get himself something to drink. Whatever excuse he has can wait.

His order takes only a minute or so, and then he’s finally making his way towards the table.

As he sits, he apologizes, still out of breath, “I’m so sorry. I woke up late, then I couldn’t find my bloody shoe, and then, about halfway here, I realize I left my blasted mobile at the apartment. I thought to turn back but I was already running late, didn’t want to keep you.”

Regina dismisses it with a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”  Although, she’d be lying if she weren’t a little peeved, but she’s not really all that surprised.

Robin goes about studying her. His eyes trail down and then back up, with a gentle smile chasing them. But his eyes finally land on her coffee and he points a finger at it, saying, “I’m supposed to buy you that.”

She waves her hand again. “It’s okay, you can get me next time.” And she mentally applauds herself for that one—just casually slipping it in that she wants to make this a ritual thing.

Robin doesn’t let it just slide, though. His eyebrow tips up and he smirks a little. “There’s going to be a next time?” he asks, with that smirk growing bigger around his cup as he takes a sip from it.

Regina, on the other hand, fights the urge to roll her eyes, but that doesn’t stop her from giving Robin a small grimace. She answers him tightly, “Yes, as long as this goes well.”

He chuckles. “So, what you’re saying is, I should muck this all up so I can get out of buying you coffee?”

“If you so wish,” Regina responds calmly, but the end of her answer is, at least, an octave higher than her normal voice and she knows he can detect the faint smile that’s slowly creeping up on her features.

He shrugs at it and counters with, “Or I can take you out to dinner.”

It catches her off guard and it takes her a minute to catch up. She can feel that crushing pressure take residence on her chest. Perhaps, this isn’t going to be as easy as she thought. He probably came with the notion that they’re going to work out their relationship. Meanwhile, he’s going to get ambushed with the fact that she just wants to be friends. It’s a whole catch-22. If she gets in a relationship with him, she hurts him—if she doesn’t, she hurts him. But she’s weighed this out already. She knows that it’ll hurt less in the long run if they don’t get romantically involved at all. She just has to stick to her guns.

She swallows thickly, feeling that pressure only push down harder, as she tells him, “I don’t think that’s a good idea…” She casts her eyes downward as she speaks, too, trying to avoid the mix of pain, hurt, and embarrassment that he’ll feel.

But, in her periphery, she sees him shrug. When she looks up, he appears unfazed and is even smiling a little. “I didn’t think so but I, at least, had to give it a go.”

He’s trying hard to make this work and she appreciates the effort. But there’s still a slight discomfort settled in the air between them. Hopefully, his jokes will carry them far enough.

She feels her eyebrows shoot upwards to her hairline, but recovers as best she can. “It was a good try, a, uh… valiant effort.” She smirks at him, while taking a sip of her coffee and counting her blessings that that stretch of tension came and went quickly.

He changes the subject, then, and goes back to analyzing her. “How are you?”

She nods slowly, “Good…” she pauses, “just tired and l—” but she stops before she finishes the second word.

Telling him she’s lonely might spur on a whole slew of questions and worries she doesn’t want to create.

“What?” he inevitably inquires.

“Nevermind.” She shakes her head, trying to gulp down another bit of her coffee to evade finishing the sentence.

He starts to look worried, just slightly. “No tell me.”

“It’s nothing. It wasn’t important, Robin, I promise.”

“You know, I get the feeling that you often believe your feelings aren’t important,” he remarks and he isn’t wrong but that’s her business.

“But why do my feelings concern you?”

“Well, don’t you believe that you should be able to be open about your feelings?”

“Of course, I do. But, that doesn’t mean you _always_ have to be open about them.”

“Why shouldn’t you be, though? You should be honest about how you feel.” She doesn’t know if that solely pertains to their debate or if there is a little subliminal messaging going on with that comment.

“But sometimes that isn’t what’s best,” she argues.

“Of course it is. People should always tell the truth.”

Regina looks at him curiously. “Not necessarily. Telling the truth isn’t always a good thing.”

“But the truth will come out anyway, shouldn’t you be the one to tell it?”

That is, without a doubt, directly related to what transpired between them before. She wonders if he’s inadvertently seeking her forgiveness through this conversation. She doesn’t mind scintillating banter with a hint of subliminal messaging. In fact, she’d rather have it. Regina Mills is direct about most things but her feelings have never been one of them.

“No it doesn’t,” she insists vigorously, while silently hoping that he’s picking up on the piggyback conversation.

“Yes, it does.”

“No, the truth only comes out if someone lets it come out,” she tries to reason with him. “People never say the ugly truth unless they have to. Sometimes it’s best for people to lie or omit the truth to spare the other person… or even to spare themselves. But there are justifiable reasons for not saying the truth sometimes.”

Robin shakes his head. “I just don’t see it that way. If people were always honest, then no one would ever have to lie.”

She sighs exasperatedly. How had they gotten neck-deep in an existential conversation about right and wrong? She doesn’t quite know but she does nothing to stop it. Instead, she keeps pushing the matter, “That isn’t true. The first lie in this world probably occurred to prevent someone else from getting hurt, which is a perfectly excusable reason to lie.”

Robin goes to rebut but then chooses to simply smile and shake his head—arguing is futile.  But she wants him to see her point, regardless of whether or not he wants to hear it.

She sits her coffee down and leans backward in her chair, contemplating the best example she can give.

When she’s got it, she looks at him squarely, and speaks with a bit of a pompous air, “Okay, say you thought I looked bad one day-”

“I would never think that,“ he interjects, still smiling at her.

Her eyes roll leftwards, and linger on the cars outside for a split second before proceeding. “Okay, well, hypothetically.”

He makes a face and shakes his head again. “Improbable, but okay. Let’s just go with it.”

“Thank you,” she says tartly. “Now, say you thought I looked bad but you wanted to ask me out-”

“Now that is more plausible,” he inserts commentary once again.

There’s the Robin she knows well, the one who can’t ever just let her have her way, exactly as she wants it.

“Okay, so say you saw me at work and I looked like a mess, but you wanted to ask me out. Would you tell me?”

He hesitates. “Yes,” he answers weakly.

Regina tips her head to the side and looks at him knowingly.

“But that’s not lying,” he challenges her. “That’s omitting the truth, that’s different.”

“It’s still a form of lying. If I asked you how I looked, what would you say?”

“Fine,” he yields, or, at least, she thinks he does. “I might say you don’t look bad, but then I would probably suggest that you change your outfit for our date.” He cringes, then amends with, “Like, choosing a fancy restaurants so that you can put on a sleek, skimpy dress, rather than the hideous cat sweater you might be wearing.”

“I would never wear a hideous cat sweater, just for the record,” she points out.

“Damn, I was planning on getting you that for Christmas.” He snaps his fingers, then pouts mildly.

He looks so adorable with his brows furrowed pensively and his bottom lip protruding just slightly, giving her a faint desire to nibble on it.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. How did she ever think that this was going to work out?

She tries to remind herself that she’s doing this out of selflessness, to protect Robin, even if she’ll never look at him the same. Even if she spends the rest of her life pining after someone, who will never know her true feelings because she’s trying to give _his_ feelings a reprieve.

She wishes more than anything that she didn’t have the ominous and overbearing details of Phoenix looming overhead. Or, at the very least, she wishes that she could just look into Robin’s beautiful blue eyes and be honest about what happened on the night she left, but no person in their right mind would, or could, just accept what happened. She barely can accept it herself. She’s curious to this day why the guilt hasn’t completely eaten her alive. Maybe it’s because she tries not to think about the specific details that much—that, and the memories themselves have become a bit fuzzy over time. Her mind has pushed away what she can remember, though, the sounds of sirens and the looks on her parents’ faces and the blood, oh god, the blood—that’s thing she tries to forget most.

If she could just find a way to steer the narrative of the story in her favor, she might be able to tell Robin the truth someday. But it seems, no matter how hard she tries, that Cora, despite being miles and miles away, still steals her voice every time.

All those people she’d once considered friends in Phoenix turned their back on her, without so much as a second thought. What would stop Robin from doing the same? Yes, Regina would be the one explaining her side of things, but then he could look into the biased new stories, which are littered with Cora’s slanderous rhetoric against her own daughter. Or he could find an old friend (who wouldn’t be Mal with her luck), and would spew the hateful shit that Cora fed them over the years in Regina’s absence. Perhaps, he would even come into contact with Cora and—

No, no, this is exactly what she’s trying to avoid.

Robin will never get close to Cora. The fact that he knows that she exists is enough for Regina, and that’s it. He will never know about the cold-hearted, self-serving bitch, who made a pariah out of her daughter merely for spite. All he will ever know is that she is Regina’s mother, who is currently dying, far away in a hospital in Phoenix, Arizona.

“You know,” she hears him speak after clearing his throat—she must have been silent for too long, “I really wish that I could read minds because I want to know the truth. I want to know what it is people are thinking about.”

The statement is pointed. He wants to know what she’s thinking.

She goes back to twirling her straw. It’s getting increasingly harder to look at him, so she opts for looking around the shop. “Or you could just ask them what they’re thinking,” she mumbles, as her eyes land on the teenagers, who now all have their cellphones out and are texting rather than having a conversation with the people in front of them.

Maybe she and Robin should adopt that habit to avoid where she knows the conversation has to go.

“But it’s never that simple, especially with women—especially with you,” he says. “There’s always something subliminal, always some hidden whatever that comes back to bite you in the arse.”

Regina muses quietly. Now is her chance to just say how she feels, which means now is the chance to deliver her speech, “You want to know what’s on my mind?”

“Yes.” His blue eyes shift nervously between her and the rest of the coffee shop, while the rest of him fidgets in the chair.

Oh, she doesn’t want to hurt him. But she has to. If she wants to save him in the long run, she has to do it now.

She takes a deep breath, drawing together all the courage she could possible manage. It catches his attention, too. His tortured blue eyes befall her own and cause the breath trailing toward her lips to fall just short of them. The air is tightening around them like a vice, slowly and torturously cutting off her air supply. If only she could suffocate before the truth.

But she’s never been a patient woman. She reaches for his hand, which warms against her own and makes her slightly regret the gesture. But her hand remains and even tightens, as her lungs expand, attempting another deep breath, before finally saying “Iwanttobefriends,” on the exhale.

Her eyes try to dart away, and focus on something else, anything else, but she can’t help but peek up at him. It’ll be her greatest regret, because when she catches his pained, punched-in-the-gut look as he whooshes out a breath that he must have been holding, she feels like a class A bitch. She faces him full on with a bit of trepidation, worried about his next move, which starts with releasing her hand.

He probably hates her, now—great.

“It’s just,” she carries on in her defense, “It’s just that I’ve been really emotional with this stuff about my mother and it brought up everything with Phoenix and I’ve just not been in a good place—and I’m still not, for that matter—and I just shouldn’t have kissed you. I was overwhelmed with emotions and I let them take over and that was wrong of me.”

He’s nodding slowly, with his lips pursed and his (well-toned—had she noticed recently how built they look?) arms crossed across his chest.

She winces and peers down again at the fingers of her hand, which went back to weaving her straw between them. “Do you hate me now?”

He stays quiet, still looking as though he’s concentrating very hard on something. She wonders if this is some new age passive-aggressive version of the silent treatment. This isn’t a good idea. _Kissing him_ in the first place wasn’t a good idea. But she was stupid enough to let Robin’s kindness mean more than it really did. She took something that could have been completely innocent, for all intents and purposes, and made it into this awkward conglomeration of potential feelings and confusion and friendship.

It’s like she begs for trouble. Maybe she’s more like Kathryn than she thought.

Oh, fuck that.

She’s about to explain herself some more, but she watches as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then he finally speaks. “Do you regret it?”

Her head tilts sideways and her brows scrunch together. “Didn’t I just say that?”

He smirks but shakes his head. “No, you said you shouldn’t have done it,” he surmises. “That isn’t the same thing.”

Her eyes squint and briefly scan his dubiously. She doesn’t exactly follow but she doesn’t really care to make a point to challenge it.

But he notices, so he tacks on, “It’s like being on a diet and eating chocolate cake. You know you shouldn’t have done it but if it was one good fucking cake, do you regret it?”

“You think it was a good kiss?” she queries smugly.

He makes a face of well-intended nonchalance but she doesn’t buy it.

“Oh, darling,” he says with a wink, “I know it was.”

She scoffs, but secretly feels a little swell of pride. She knows he probably means that _he’s_ a good kisser, but making out, like they were, is definitely a two-player game. Somewhere in the statement, he meant a compliment for her.

She dismisses his comment with a shrug, though.

“Well?” he prompts her, his eyes growing big and curious.

She sighs softly. “I can’t answer that,” she says, with a sympathetic smile ghosting her lips, “because we won’t know if I’m being honest or sparing your feelings.”

He pouts again, but more boyishly this time. “Don’t spare my feelings,” he whines playfully.

She reaches out for his hand again, which is back on the table. Her eyes make sure to lock on his and hold his attention for as long as she can without feeling guilty about all of this.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” she tells him quietly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “I want to live in a lying world.”

He answers with a soft, pitiful smile, returning the squeeze with his own and she mirrors it, with the best of intentions.

“Okay, then. Friends,” he murmurs softly.

So that’s it, then. She and Robin Locksley are going to be friends—nothing more, nothing less—purely platonic. But the idea makes her gut twist just so as it flits across her mind. When they’d been curled up on her couch just a few weeks ago, she really had envisioned a life for the both of them together. She hadn’t considered the option of them ever having separate lives, even if they’d taken different paths long before they’d met.

Maybe it was because she’d resolved herself to the idea that Robin was going to be in her life. He’d made that clear himself, anyway. But why is she _so_ certain that she and Robin are fated to be in one another’s lives? Or, perhaps, the better question is: why is she so _determined_ to make sure that she and Robin are fated to be in one another’s lives? She knows the answer to that question, without so much as a second thought. But, the answer that resonates in the core of her chest can’t be known to anyone, especially Robin, so she buries it deeper and deeper, with the hope that no one, not even herself, can dig it back out. It can rest quietly with her other buried secrets, like Phoenix, and she can rest more peacefully knowing that no one else can be hurt with the things that she knows.

Regina looks down at their hands still joined together and she feels a rush of heat spread across her cheeks.

“Um,” she clears her throat, as she gently pulls her hand away, “I have to get going. I, also, promised Kathryn I’d meet her for brunch today. It’s supposedly mandatory.” She laughs awkwardly with the last sentence.

“Oh, yeah,” Robin says hurriedly, rising as Regina does, and nods in understanding.

They both awkwardly bob, when they come face to face, dithering between whether or not to hug one another. But they do, enveloping the other in their arms. She can sense his desire to linger but she squirms and wriggles to get out as soon as she can and he doesn’t hold on. But he does grab her hand as she turns to go, pulling her attention back to him one last time.

“So, we’re good, yeah?” he asks with a touch of eagerness and nervousness blended into the question.

She nods and smiles. “Yes, definitely.”

“So, I’ll—uh—see you later, then?”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, “I mean we do work together.”

He snorts. “Right. Will I see you again outside of work, though?”

She swallows thickly and tries to quiet the thunderous roar of nerves in her belly. “Yes,” she nods curtly. “You passed.”

He feigns an exhale of relief—or at least, she thinks he isn’t serious. “Good, I’ll text you, then?”

“Sounds good.”

“Good.”

She glances back at the door and then at her watch. “I really have to go,” she tells him reluctantly.

“It’s okay,” he concedes with a lackluster smile and sans his dimples. “But, oh, Regina,” he calls after her as she inches toward the door, “I won’t give up on you that easily.”

Regina doesn’t bother to fight the urge to turn around this time. She dashes on her best smirk and approaches him once more. “I had no doubt,” she whispers conspiratorially between them and then finally makes her way out the door, giving herself another hint of nostalgia, as she remembers their first meeting being much the same, with her running off and leaving him behind in a coffee shop.

[:]

Regina has no idea why Kathryn was so insistent on having brunch, but after their fight and Regina sparing her last shred of dignity to grovel for Kathryn’s forgiveness, she figures it’s best not to push her luck.

Kathryn’s rounded up the entire group. It’s herself, Regina, Tinka, Ariel, Rory and Belle . They’re sitting at a table outside of Kathryn’s favorite café.

No one knows what’s going on but they’re all engrossed in conversation with each other anyway, including Kathryn, but Regina’s thoughts and feelings are elsewhere, far away with an adorable British kindergarten teacher, who she now has done the complete Regina Mills run-around on.

Part of her believes that it’s simply because of fear. She did just get out of her relationship with Graham only two weeks ago. Starting a new one right away isn’t very smart, especially with someone like Robin. She needs to be alone for a little while and figure herself out, just like she told Robin. Her life is a mess at the moment—that should be her priority. Dragging him into the mire of her life won’t fix anything. She can rely on him, as a shoulder to cry on, of course, just as she can with the girls, but this is all messy and not a place for her to start a new relationship with someone, especially someone like Robin.

Right now she needs to focus on herself, maybe do some introspective therapy.

But, that doesn’t carry her thoughts any further away from Robin.

“I think we need to get Regina a blind date,” Tinka chimes in through the random chatter amongst their group.

It’s like she can hear Regina’s thoughts and knows just how to use them against her.

Regina shakes her head quickly, “No, no. I’m fine Ti. If anything I need to not do relationships for awhile.”

Tinka groans aloud, “You need to get back out there.” Her hands fly up and Regina finds that stubborn piece of her that silently rages against her friend.

“Look, Gina,” Kathryn says kindly, reaching out for her hand. “Sitting around, pining for Graham isn’t going to do you any favors.”

“I am _not_ pining for Graham,” she scoffs disgustedly, as if they’d just suggested something terribly foul.

“Then why won’t you get back out there?” Tinka pushes.

Regina massages her temples, which are beginning to throb. She thinks she’s more unappreciative toward Graham and Robin for the influx of recent headaches than the lies and deceit.

“Because I just got back in here,” she answers exasperatedly. “Why can’t you focus on your love life and butt out of mine?”

“Because Killian and I are doing just fine, thank you very much,” Tinka huffs, crossing her arms flamboyantly.

“Alright, Millionaire Matchmaker,” Kathryn cuts in, “maybe we should just let Regina handle her own love life for now.”

Regina nods to Kathryn. “Thank you.”

Kathryn responds in kind with reaching for Regina’s hand, giving it a squeeze and pairing it with one of her soft smiles that warms Regina’s heart. “Just promise me you won’t sign your life away to the convent, okay?”

“I don’t think they’d even let me in, anyway,” Regina mumbles.

The others erupt in laughter. After it dies out, Kathryn clears her throat loudly and looks around the table to assure that all eyes are on her. The girls, Regina included, do as expected and turn their attention to Kathryn, who’s smiling politely and waiting for them to settle.

“Ladies,” Kathryn begins with her hands folded on the table and her posture pin board straight, “I have an announcement!”

The women lean in closer as Kathryn tells them that she and Frederick have picked a date for their wedding. There’s squealing and lots of talking that follow. Regina engages but her mind keeps wandering back to Robin. She wonders if Kathryn will invite him. Maybe she could just make him her plus one? But, of course, that’ll look inappropriate. Besides, what makes her think that Robin would want to go to Kathryn’s wedding with her, anyway?

More importantly, why is Regina fretting about this, now?

She tries hard to reconnect to the conversation happening presently in front of her. They’re already talking about Kathryn’s dress and their dresses and cake and flowers. It’s enough to make Regina’s head spin, but that’s only the beginning of it all because Kathryn quiets everyone down and pins her attention on Regina.

“Gina,” she says sweetly, batting her eyelashes up and down, “I was wondering if you would maybe be my Maid of Honor?”

It takes her by surprise. Yes, she and Kathryn are the closest out of the group of women, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that Regina has to take that role on. It’s most certainly more Tinka’s style, and she nearly says so, but knows that it will hurt Kathryn’s feelings. She has no choice but to accept the offer without looking like a bitch. It’s not that she doesn’t want to accept, but it’s not like Regina exactly excels at things like being a Maid of Honor. All eyes are focused on her, so she accepts quickly with minor hesitation wedged between each letter. Kathryn lights up though, impervious to Regina’s subliminal reluctance.

“Hey,” Tinka playfully shoves Regina, “I was gunning for that.”

“Oops,” Regina answers with a shrug.

The circle of women laugh again (they never take her seriously), and then carry on about their conversation while Kathryn turns back to Regina and starts listing all the things they need to cover before the wedding. Regina attempts to stay as attentive as possible, but she feels out of sorts. She has that sense that she’s forgotten something or accidentally left something behind and her mind is latched to it and trying its damned hardest to drag her back to it.

The rest of the brunch is a misery for her. She catches that Kathryn wants lilies for flowers and teal, gold and white for the wedding colors, but she misses chunks when her mind wanders too far off. Kathryn notices at one point and snaps at her, but it goes otherwise unnoticed by anyone else. She feels awful that she’s already falling down on the job but she just can’t focus.

Maybe she needs to go take a nap or do some yoga and clear her thoughts.

[:]

Eventually, Ariel and Rory mention needing to leave and Belle, who’d also been very quiet, follows suit. They all give their congratulatory niceties again before leaving and the remaining three ladies linger just a little bit longer afterwards.

“I’m so excited for you,” Tinka tells Kathryn giddily, looking as though she nearly can’t stay glued to her seat. “Ah, love is in the air and everything is good.”

Regina scoffs, “Ha, speak for yourself.”

Tinka merely shrugs. “I told you how to fix that.”

Regina ignores her and just stands up. “Well, I need to go catch up on lesson plans.”

“Yeah, I need to, too,” Kathryn, sighs reluctantly, also rising from her chair.

The three of them march to the door and Tinka steadily talks the whole way to the car about how excited she is and all the fun things that they can do leading up to the nuptials. Regina is tuning her out, while Kathryn is murmuring a few monosyllabic responses.

Tinka parts first and makes her way over to her Volkswagen bug, while Kathryn follows Regina to her car.

Kathryn solicits outside of Regina’s car and watches Tinka carefully. She waits patiently as Tinka gets in her car and buckles her seatbelt and adjusts her mirrors, but she doesn’t say anything. Meanwhile, Regina does the same but wonders, too, why Kathryn is so concerned with watching Tinka, while also making sure to prevent Regina from getting in her vehicle. She can smell the drama coming from miles away—just what Regina needs—but she’s practically cornered, now, so she’s going to have to hear about it one way or another.

Regina wonders if it possibly has to do with the fight she and Kathryn had gotten into, but that was over two weeks ago and it seemed to have blown over. Then again, Regina wouldn’t put it past Kathryn to have been holding a grudge all this time and waiting until now to finally make a big deal out of it. But, either way, Kathryn is certainly up to something.

Regina’s mind continues to race with theories as they watch their other friend scan around her car, looking for something—her phone probably—before her head finally pops up and she looks back over to the twosome. She smiles and waves and Regina and Kathryn both raise a palm in sync to salute her as she pulls out of her parking spot. But Kathryn doesn’t move or speak yet, and instead, lets her eyes follow Tinka’s little green bug down the street until it is nearly out of sight. When she’s certain Tinka is nowhere near the realm of their conversation Kathryn finally turns to Regina to speak.

Regina can feel that oily sense of dread pool in the center of her crown and cascade down through the rest of her body as she gets a full look at Kathryn’s face. It’s masked into a twisted, impish smirk that only says to Regina that she knows something and it’s something that Regina doesn’t quite want to hear. It’s a face Regina has seen many a time in the past when Kathryn is on the cusp of concocting some cockamamie plan or instigating drama that will incite madness in the teacher’s lounge for a week before dying out. But Regina can tell from the pointed look on Kathryn’s face that it has something specifically to do with Regina, this time.

Regina feels nervous and doesn’t mean for the disdained, “What?”  to come out  of her mouth, but when it does, she fears that it doesn’t maintain enough vigor to prove that she couldn’t care less about whatever the hell it is that Kathryn is up to.

She’s right, too, because Kathryn’s smirk only widens. Her friend begins to circle around just slightly, like a hunter stalking its prey.

Regina clears her throat and tries again, “What?”

“So,” Kathryn drawls with that smirk only growing some more.

Regina rolls her eyes, hoping Kathryn will catch on that she isn’t the least bit amused by the shenanigans, but it doesn’t work, of course.

Kathryn leans in closer, but tries now to keep a level of cool she wasn’t keeping a moment ago. “So, you’re distracted.”

Regina shrugs aggressively. “So?”

“Well, why is that?”

Oh, well if that’s it.

Regina sighs in relief. “I don’t know. I guess I just have a lot on my mind, Kathryn. Look, I’m happy for you, really. I just have a lot on my plate. I promise to be the perfect Maid of Honor, I’m just all wonky today. That’s all.”

Kathryn eyes her carefully. “Robin Locksley came by my classroom a couple of weeks ago to ask about you,” she states randomly.

And there’s the other shoe.

Regina’s heart knocks hard into her chest at the sound of Robin’s name and is only thrown into higher gear at the idea that he asked about her. But, oh, she knows where this is going. It was so completely stupid of Robin to go to Kathryn for anything when she is the headquarters for office drama and it is so Kathryn to have probably worked it all out in her head that Regina and Robin are an item, or at least, are trying to become one. And for some reason, that is going to propel Kathryn into sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong and masquerade it as “trying to help.”

“So?” Regina shrugs, trying her best to seem blasé about the whole thing.

Kathryn shrugs to and mirrors Regina’s attitude, “Dunno. Just thought it was a little interesting, that’s all.”

Regina shakes her head. “So, he’s a nice guy? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, did he go see you?”

“What are y—” she starts and cuts her own self off before the truth comes in clearly.

Kathryn is referring to the day that she and Robin kissed and she broke up with Graham and she ended her friendship with Robin and everything became messier tenfold. She’s talking about the day that’s had Regina all screwy for weeks now, the day that changed everything. And now Kathryn wants to join the fray like it’s a club. But it’s dangerous waters and Regina’s already concerned with letting Robin in too closely.

Her next words will have to be chosen carefully, if just to save face.

But she decides to answer the question truthfully, “Yeah, so?”

Kathryn’s arms cross in front of her chest and her right eyebrow makes a leap to her hairline. “So, he went all the way to your apartment to check on you?”

Regina stumbles trying to find the right thing to say. Yes, he came to her apartment, and yes, it’s exactly what Kathryn wants to hear, but Kathryn can’t hear that because that’s not what it is now. Robin and Regina are friends—nothing more, nothing less—and they’re going to stay that way. There cannot be a relationship between them. That ship has sailed.

“Why are you even bringing this up, now, Kathryn? This was weeks ago,” Regina huffs petulantly.

Kathryn gives Regina a pointed look. She knows she’s hit a nerve. “Well, honestly, I hadn’t thought much of it at the time until the other day in the conference room.”

“What’re you talking about?”

She watches as Kathryn’s lips press together and then peel apart. “You think I didn’t notice you two making eyes across the room at each other?”

Regina scoffs, “I do not make eyes with _anyone_ , least of all, Robin Locksley.”

“Oh, please, Regina,” Kathryn whines and stamps her foot like a child, “Tell me one thing David said in that meeting.”

Shit. She really hadn’t heard a word he said, but she tries anyway to scan her brain for some semblance of a remark he made. And when that avenue is a dead end, she even tries to invent one, but she comes up dry.

“He… said something about the Halloween carnival,” she says defiantly, while silently praying she’s right.

“What about it specifically?”

Regina groans. This is ridiculous. She and Robin are friends and she’s not going to let Kathryn weasel her way in and mess that up.

“Kathryn,” Regina states impatiently, crossing her own arms and forming a displeased frown.

“I saw you texting him,” she admits.

Ah, there’s the truth. That is what has Kathryn all wound up in a tizzy, probably culminating from her burning desire to know any and everything there is to know about Regina’s personal life, as well as, her irritation that Regina hasn’t said anything to her about Robin.

But Kathryn shouldn’t be the one irritated…

“You read my texts?” Regina growls defensively.

It makes her angrier than it should. She’s always been a private person, but it’s not like Kathryn hasn’t seen conversations between her and Graham before. And Kathryn shares every aspect of her life with Regina, even when it’s unwanted. But this is irking her more than she wants it to. She almost feels protective over her bubble with Robin. No one is allowed to come in or disturb it. Except, Regina knows it’s more than that. Kathryn is getting far too close to those feelings that Regina has since buried. Regina wants to keep pretending that there aren’t residual feelings between her and Robin and she wants to believe that they can be friends and only friends, because that’s how it has to be.

“I didn’t read the actual texts, just the name,” Kathryn says with an eye roll. “But more importantly, when I asked, you lied to me, why?”

Regina surprises herself by willingly giving up the truth again. “Because I didn’t want you to do exactly what you’re doing right now, which is making mine and Robin’s relationship into more than it really is.”

“That is not what I’m doing,” Kathryn answers indignantly, still sounding like a stubborn child.

“Yes, it is,” Regina sighs exasperatedly. “You want to meddle and try and ‘hook us up’ just like you did for me and Graham, but Kathryn, I mean it when I say, I don’t want you to, okay?”

Kathryn squints her eyes and peruses Regina carefully. She looks as if she squints hard enough, she might be able to find out more. Regina stands there impatiently while Kathryn scours her and it isn’t until realization washes over Kathryn’s features that Regina’s attitude changes. Maybe that trick does work. She starts to feel the panic rising in her throat, as Kathryn’s look goes from revelation to smug omnipotence.

“You really like him,” she says matter-of-factly, even though Regina believes there is meant to be a question in there.

She scoffs again and waves the idea off with her hand. “As if. Robin is a bonafide man child, who probably enjoys drinking far too much and thinks fart jokes are funny.”

“Every man is like that,” Kathryn points out.

“No they aren’t. When was the last time Frederick had a drink?”

“Last night, actually.”

So much for proving a point.

“Okay, but I’m sure there’s been an elongated period of time between drinks,” Regina tries again, stuttering a little bit.

“Not really,” Kathryn sings, shaking her head up towards the sky and then back down at Regina with a confident air.

“When was it then?”

“I don’t know, Regina,” it’s Kathryn who sounds annoyed now, “but I know it was recently. You know, it’s okay to admit that you like Robin as a person and that you enjoy the pleasure of his company. He’s cute and seems like a nice guy, it’s not a crime to like that.”

“I like my business to stay business,” she replies a little more rudely than she intends to. She really doesn’t want to start another fight with Kathryn.

“I know you do,” Kathryn says, disregarding Regina’s chilliness and answering only in a kind and gentle voice. “And I’ll drop it like you’ve asked, but I want you to know that not every guy is an,” Regina can see her cringe slightly, “asshole like Graham. Maybe you should give Robin a chance to prove that to you.”

She had given Robin a chance and he blew it by kissing her, instead of telling her the truth about Graham. And, of course, she doesn’t blame him, nor is she even remotely angry with him, but he valued a romance between them more than he did their friendship and that stung a little.

And then, not to mention, she’s starting to have all these feelings for him but he’s too close for comfort—so close that if he finds out what she did in Phoenix and he walks away, it’ll absolutely destroy her. More so, it’ll destroy him, and she can’t have that. Robin’s already proven to her that, despite a few hiccups here or there, he’s a genuinely good person and that’s why she wants to keep him around and that’s why she does… like him—not that she’s going to admit that aloud anytime soon (well, save that one passionate moment she said it to Robin before she kissed him).

“It has nothing to do with Graham, Kathryn, I promise. I just want to be friends with him, okay?”

“Okay,” Kathryn agrees with a wave of her hand, but she starts to frown.

Regina glowers at her friend because she knows there’s something else. “Go ahead, say it.,” she sighs and swoops her hand out in concession.

Kathryn hesitates, eyeing Regina cautiously, as if Regina is going to pull the rug out from under her. But Regina says nothing and Kathryn cautiously proceeds.

“You’re my best friend, Regina. That’s why I asked you to be my Maid of Honor, because you are the best friend I’ve got.” She takes a breath, but Regina stays quiet, pensively observing the blonde.

 “But it just feels that you don’t feel that way about me and I’m just worried that we’re pulling apart and,” Kathryn starts to fan her face, as tears begin to well in her eyes, while Regina tries her hardest to fight the urge to roll her own eyes, “and I-I’m-I’m… p-pregnant and I wanted you to be the first to know but I just…”

The last thing Regina was expecting to hear is that Kathryn is expecting. Although, in hindsight, it makes plenty of sense. It would explain why she and Frederick got engaged (and are, subsequently, getting married) so quickly. But still, it has Regina standing there, mouth agape, eyebrows blending into her hairline and eyes wide as saucers.

Regina doesn’t even know if Kathryn is still speaking when she asks, “How long have you known?”

“Since the second week of July,” Kathryn winces nervously, seemingly worried that Regina will be upset that she hadn’t said anything sooner.

Okay, so maybe the engagement was on purpose and not a shotgun wedding ordeal.

But Kathryn is pregnant.  Kathryn Midas (soon to be Knight) is going to have a baby.

Regina Mills is not a hugger. She has never been a hugger. She never really plans on being a hugger. But, her joy and excitement are so overwhelming, that she can’t help but propel herself forward and envelop her friend.

“Oof!” Kathryn breathes as their bodies collide. “And here I thought I was going to get stern, judgmental Regina.”

Regina is too elated to even care about the comment. “Kathryn, this is wonderful news, why would I be judgmental?”

Kathryn shrugs and her bottom lip protrudes. “I don’t know. I just thought because of this wedge or whatever is going on, you might not be receptive to the idea.”

Regina lets Kathryn go and looks her over. “Receptive to the idea of you having a child? I mean I’ll have to be there to make sure you don’t screw it up too much by filling its head with rainbows and butterflies and turn it into a human Grand Central Station for drama, but Kathryn, of course I’m happy for you!”

Kathryn sniffles, “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Regina answers firmly, shaking Kathryn just slightly.

“And we’re okay?” she follows up timidly.

“Yes, Kathryn. Everything is just fine.”

Kathryn just looks at her expectantly, like a dog waiting for a treat.

Of course, she wasn’t going to let it go that easily. Regina weighs her options. She doesn’t want to start a war with Kathryn, particularly with a pregnant Kathryn. Not to mention, Kathryn just opened up to Regina and she didn’t have to, even though Regina knows that it was an inevitability. But what’s the harm in telling her friend how she feels? Yes, Kathryn will meddle, but at least, Regina can stave her off and keep her at bay, especially while she holds a secret of Kathryn’s.

Plus, it might feel good to just say it—it won’t, in fact, it’ll only make things worse—but Regina is going to tell herself that it will feel cathartic to tell someone and it will be nice to just be able to talk to someone about things that pertain to Robin that Regina can’t exactly say to Robin.

“Kathryn,” Regina says warningly, glaring her down with all the might she can hold in her tiny frame.

But Kathryn stands there unwaveringly, testing Regina silently, even though the ball is no longer in her court. “Do you?” she whispers quietly, though bubbling with excitement.

Regina meets Kathryn eye to eye and accepts the challenge dancing between them.

“I want to make something clear, Kathryn. This isn’t a game. And I meant what I said, okay? I wish to only remain friends with Robin. If, and only if, that changes, _and_ I tell you that that has changed, it is not going to be any more than that. I do not want you to intervene. I have some personal things to figure out and I’m not going to pursue anything with _anyone_ until I resolve that. Do I make myself clear?”

Regina isn’t sure Kathryn is even listening with the way she’s bouncing up and down with each word that comes out of Regina’s mouth, but she nods fervently anyway in agreement.

“Okay,” Kathryn nearly squeals, “spill it.”

Regina takes a deep breath and tries to grasp what she’s about to get into. This could either work in her favor or ruin everything but she’s a king backed into the corner by a knight, and completely out of moves.

It’s do or die.

Her eyes squeeze shut and her face screws up, as she mutters nearly inaudibly, “I’m falling for Robin Locksley.”

 


	13. Chapter Twelve

He is a conflicted man. A foolishly conflicted man. He's had his heart broken plenty of times, sure, but he has never been this twisted up over a woman—well, save Marian, but she's a whole different matter in itself. But as far as his mixed feelings about Regina go, this is entirely new territory for him.

It's not like he's pacing around his blasted apartment, pining like a poor bastard that's just had his heart ripped out and stomped on, but he's not been particularly cavalier about the whole situation either. Of course, he's been putting on a good face for Regina, giving her space when she needs it and being a shoulder to cry on when she needs that, instead. But, inside his guts writhe with the urge to touch, savor and satiate every desire that's burning within him. He can't—he knows he can't—she's asked to be friends and nothing more and he has to respect that, and he  _wants_  to respect that, but that doesn't mean the rest of him won't act accordingly.

His heart will continue to skip a beat every time she walks in the room. His nose will silently revel in in the waft of her scent as she goes by. And his pitiful mind will berate him to make a move.

But he can't.

He's considered the harm in expressing his true feelings and it just outweighs the respect he has for her wishes. So, he's left to stay mum and silently wish that she will, one day, reconsider their relationship with one another.

And that's why he's decided to woo her. It's unlike him—he doesn't usually do wooing of any kind—but he's serious this time. He wants her to see that he's a good man and more than some careless wank, who just sleeps with a girl and moves on. He can commit. He wants to commit.

And he's going to damn well prove it.

That's why he's walking to her classroom now, coffee in hand. School doesn't start for another twenty minutes, and though he's running later than he'd like to be, he, at least, wants to show her a small gesture of said wooing.

He can't decide if the slickness of his palms is dedicated to the rapidly melting iced coffee in his hands or the sweat that's manifesting his nervousness. He, of course, hopes it's the former and that he can actually not look like a complete plonker in front of her. Although, that begs the question of why he's concerned in the first place. He and Regina have been friends for a couple of months now—it's not like anything has changed.

Except that he's kissed her. And betrayed her. And she's just asked to be friends.

But the point remains. There's just a mild addition of pressure now. No big deal.

He takes a deep breath, which sounds off and ricochets down the first and second grade hall. It's empty and dead silent, sans his deep breath and the sound of his shoes padding against the linoleum. But as he nears Regina's classroom he can hear the faint tapping on a keyboard.

It's Regina, he finds, as he rounds his way into her classroom. She has her back to him and is furiously typing away on her computer. He stands there in the doorframe and tries to muster some courage to approach her.

Her dark hair is pulled into a ponytail today and she's donned a thin cotton tee shirt with a black vest. He's certain she's more than likely wearing leggings, as well. He knows they're her favorite. She's a picture even in relaxed and casual wear and he can't help but take a minute to admire her. Except, it doesn't take long before he realizes how creepy it probably looks that he's simply watching her from afar, especially with Halloween right around the corner.

He begins shuffling toward her as quietly as possible, not wanting to startle her. As he files closer, he notices that she's deeply concentrated in whatever it is that she's typing. Her brow is furrowed worrisomely and her mouth is fixed into a frown. He feels his own level of concern, then, worried that something is bothering her.

But, hopefully, whatever it is can be fixed with a bit of coffee and company.

When he reaches her desk, he carefully and conspicuously slides her coffee on the surface, pushing it until it nearly touches her elbow.

She turns to him to reveal a gentle smile and make-up done much like the rest of her, casual and relaxed, but beautiful as ever.

"Hey," she greets him warmly, looking genuinely happy to see him.

Her smile grows with a power that could make his kneecaps crack under pressure and give out below him. She even has tiny, little crinkles forming at the corner, which usually means that she is sincerely happy—something he's much more pleased to see, compared to the look she was wearing only moments ago.

"Hi there," he returns in kind, attempting to match her smile.

Regina glances down at the tall, clear plastic cup, brimming with a (now watery) beige liquid and dripping with condensation on the outside.

"What's this?" she asks, picking it up and taking a sip.

Robin, of course, can't resist the urge to jest with her. "Well… it's coffee," he teases playfully feigning a bit of confusion.

Regina only rolls her eyes, as she often does, at him. "You know what I meant," she says flatly, while burying her smile beneath contempt.

"I owed you coffee, so I'm just simply squaring off my debt," he shrugs nonchalantly, even though the whole premise of buying the coffee had nothing to do with evening out his debt and everything to do with his attempts at courting her.

She frowns at the cup, and then looks up at him curiously with narrowed eyes. "How did you know that's what I wanted?"

He grins cheekily. "The barista. I went and asked her what you'd ordered after you left."

"Bet that scored you some points with her, didn't it?" she smirks, as she sips away at her drink.

Robin, at least, attempts to look sheepish about it, but she isn't wrong. The girl practically melted on the spot at the idea that he was trying to impress Regina. She'd willingly offered up what Regina had ordered and even offered to make it for free, which he, of course, refused, promising that he fully intended to pay for it.

It's meant to be a gentlemanly offer, after all.

"It may've," he admits with a shrug, but I'm not particularly looking to score points with  _her._ "

Regina doesn't say anything but shies her face away from him. She's smiling, he can tell by the height of her cheeks and her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, so he waits patiently for her to recover and return to their conversation with the dignity that he knows she has to have.

But she doesn't really, and instead, looks back at her computer with a frown.

"What is it?" he asks, trying to lean in and get a look at her screen.

Regina sighs and takes another sip of her drink. "Henry," she breathes tiredly, "he's missed so many days already and I just don't know what to do. I've been trying to email his foster parents, but apparently they couldn't care less about his education."

Robin understands her frustration all too well. Roland has missed his fair share of days, too, and the number keeps growing at an alarming rate. Everyday that Roland's seat remains empty, Robin gets more concerned, but, much like Regina, isn't sure what he can do quite yet. They can't report them as truant because they haven't met the required number of absences, though they are nearing that threshold quickly.

"Yeah," Robin sighs, as well, rubbing the back of his neck, "Roland, too. You think we should say something?"

"There's nothing we can say right now," she sighs.

She's extremely frustrated and stressed, he can tell, and it makes him hurt in all the worst places. He just wants to fix and make things better.

He shouldn't place his hands on her shoulders and give them a few massaging squeezes, but he feels as though it's the least he could do. He shouldn't really be touching her at all, but his palms slide with little hesitation onto her shoulders and massage. And she doesn't reject him, doesn't even flinch. In fact, she lazily leans into his touch as he murmurs softly that they'll figure something out together.

"You think so?" she queries while he kneads.

The logical part of him is screaming that this is all too inappropriate, particularly while they're at school, but he's resolved himself not to care. He should, though. After all, he knows that not only will this be the only gossip that'll circulate through the faculty, he's also fairly certain the administration wouldn't think too highly of their fraternization. And yet, he's unfazed by the notion, doesn't give a toss at all, to be perfectly honest. He thinks maybe she should care more because that's just typical of Regina, but she isn't saying anything in repudiation.

Then again, it could just be that she's really distracted and simply doesn't care to focus on what he's doing. So, he just continues, while she sips away at her coffee.

He compliments as he kneads, knowing the two together are the best option to get her smiling and de-stressed, "Regina, you are an incredibly intelligent woman. I'm sure you'd be able to figure it out, regardless."

"You have too much faith in me," she grumbles and goes back to typing on her computer, still not commenting on his gentle massage, which has waned a little and is now more him just resting on her.

"You know what they say—faith, trust and pixie dust," he counters with a gentle chuckle, and a final squeeze to her shoulders, even though he isn't planning on moving.

Regina laughs aloud and turns her face toward him. "Ha! If only it were that easy. And if I had any pixie dust, my ass would be halfway to Neverland by now."

"Ah, to be young forever and avoid the crushing responsibilities of adulthood."

Regina hums softly and flutters her fingertips on the keys of the keyboard. He watches her mind slip away dreamily and they just linger in that state peacefully, just for a moment. But, Robin's head is steadily swimming with nerves and fears and he worries if what he's doing is okay. He's waiting and waiting for Regina to turn around and ask him why he's even touching her. He knows she's too polite for that but that doesn't abate his worry at all.

If he wasn't so worried about all of this, he might venture to be hopeful, to think that this could be a good routine for them—he brings her coffee and they talk about things, whether it's work or them or her mum or whatever, he could get used to it. He could really get used to it. The feeling causes this metalic pang in his chest, as if someone has taken hold of his heart and banged it incessantly against a baking pan. He wants to be with her, God, he wants to be with her. He has to be patient and respectful, though. He can't just push or prod her into loving him.

Robin feels like he's becoming his own broken record, that he keeps telling himself the same thing over and over again. He fancies her, a whole hell of a lot, and he wants to spend every waking hour with her and get her coffee and—Christ, he sounds like a bloody stalker.

Perhaps, he needs to consider staying away from her, just for a little while, to get his head on straight. Just long enough that he's not caught fawning arse over tit for her. And he can start by moving his hands, just raise them off of her shoulders and dig them so deeply into his pockets that there's no way to dig them back out. But if his will was as strong as his resolution, he'd be a wholly better man. So, he just remains and holds his breath, while he listens to Regina breathe.

It isn't until he hears a soft, "Oh," behind him that he thinks maybe he should have moved his hands.

Both he and Regina look towards at the source at the same time and find Kathryn standing in Regina's doorway, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows raised. A clutter of excuses for Robin and Regina's current state and apologies for intrusion follow until they all fall to Kathryn walking into the room and dismissing their pretenses. Her features shift to something that looks a little more smug as she gets closer to them and it makes Robin feel an odd level of unease, causing him to finally lift his hands from Regina's shoulders and step a couple feet away.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," Kathryn tells them sweetly, trying to act completely flippant about what she saw even though it's obvious that she has.

Regina is quick on her heels with a defense, claiming, "Nothing to interrupt. Robin and I were just discussing our students."

"Oh were you?" Kathryn counters in a way that Robin doesn't like. He can't quite put his finger on it but it sounds almost accusatory and he feels increasingly more defensive even though he hasn't the slightest clue why he even feels that way, nor does he know if he's right or simply being overly sensitive.

"Yes," Regina clips and he notices that neither woman is really looking at him. Kathryn may have glanced his way once but he can tell Regina is purposefully averting her gaze. She's mostly focused on glaring down Kathryn, but it's obvious that she's pointedly  _not_  looking in his direction.

He feels a sweep of nerves tickle the pit of his stomach as he pieces together the silent conversation the two women are having. Kathryn knows something. He has no idea to what extent that is, but she knows something. He watches her eyes narrow and her lips tip further upward into a greater smirk. She  _definitely_  knows something.

Robin feels the need to jump in, to somehow distract Kathryn away from, what he's sure is, a pot full of ideas brewing. But he keeps coming up dry and is forced to stand there like a muppet while the women continue about their staring contest. All he can think to do is clear his throat, which does finally draw their attention to him rather than each other. Kathryn wears a muted, insidious smile, while Regina is decorated in the hardest grimace she's probably ever worn in her life. But both women look expectantly and he mentally kicks himself because he probably should've thought that part through.

But he just goes with the first thing that comes to mind, "D'you need something?"

It sounds kind of rude, and maybe he somewhat meant for it to, but he still cringes when he gets it out. He wants to protect Regina from certain embarrassment, but he doesn't wish to step on any toes along the way.

It seems to work, though, because Kathryn shakes her head once, then nods ardently. "Right," she says, clearing her own throat. "I'm actually glad you're both here. Kills two birds with one stone, you know?"

Both Robin and Regina nod, waiting for whatever shoe is about to inevitably drop, as is custom with Kathryn, he's learned.

"So, Regina I know you are— but, Robin I assume you would like to help with the carnival, as well, yes?"

Robin catches a glimpse of Regina looking panickedly at him, out of the corner of his eye.

Something is wrong.

He hasn't heard of any carnival, so he's at a loss as to why Regina is obviously concerned, so he sort of stands there and stammers.

Kathryn looks perplexed. "You know, the one we discussed in our meeting the other week?"

Oh, right. The meeting he didn't pay a spot of attention to because he was too sodding preoccupied with texting Regina and ignored practically everything David had said during it. Although, in hindsight, he does think he remembers a brief mention of something of the sort, but again, he was a bit caught up in other things to have fully acknowledged it.

Robin simply pretends to recover, "Right, yes, of course, sorry, appears I've gone dead from the neck up. What is that you need me to do?"

Kathryn just smirks and gives a snide, "Right," then adds, "I was hoping you could help with a minigame, maybe bobbing for apples or darts or something."

"I could do darts," he tells her.

"Perfect," she replies to him, "Oh, and you need to wear a costume. You could be, um… oh! Robin Hood. That would be perfect for you."

"Then, Robin Hood I shall be," Robin accepts with a nod, which Kathryn answers in turn.

"Now, Regina," she sings and turns her attention. "Do you just want to leave straight from here so we can get you ready that day?"

Regina starts to say something, probably some sassy comment, but she stops before she even gets the first word out. Her eyes go all wide and her face is washed paler than a ghost. "No," is all she says, while shaking her head violently.

"It's your year, Regina. We agreed on this," Kathryn reasons with a stomp of her foot and a bit of a whine.

Robin, on the other hand, has lost the plot completely. But whatever's going on, he knows Kathryn has cooked up something that Regina accidentally agreed to ages ago, and now it's time for her to pay up.

"I thought I'd figure a way out of it by now," Regina gripes, tossing her head backward and massaging her temples.

Kathryn's face twists into something resembling pissed off, but he thinks she's too polite to make it obvious, which is what causes him to step in before either woman ends up causing an argument.

"I'm sorry, what's happening?"

Robin watches as Regina's warm colored skin shifts from its regular hue to one that's much redder. She rolls her eyes at Kathryn angrily, but manages to speak to Robin, "Every year, we do a haunted house at the carnival. And every year, one of the women from the staff dresses up like the Evil Queen to be posted up at the end of it. Well, last year, my name got drawn, but I was sick, so Kathryn went in my place and I agreed that I would do it this year since I got out of doing it last year. So, now I have to dress up in this ridiculous get-up, just to make her happy."

Kathryn steps toward Regina, pleading, "It will make me happy Gi, please, just do it."

Robin looks between the women, trying his best not to laugh or smile. He would definitely like to see Regina dressed up like an evil queen. He just decides to watch quietly as the women square off with one another. But when Regina glances up at her clock on the wall, taking Robin and Kathryn's eyes with them, her features sour because she knows that there is no way to win.

"Fine, but my name doesn't go in the drawing next year," she compromises, but pouts like a child.

"The previous person is always taken out. You know that."

Regina rolls her eyes again. "Whatever. Now, don't you have a classroom of your own to commandeer?"

Kathryn rebuts with, "I'm across the hall," but yields to Regina when the latter huffs frustratedly. "Fine, fine. I'm going. I'll let you get back to your… massage," she teases, as she backs out of the room

Regina goes red in the face again, and Robin isn't sure if it's because she's angry or embarrassed this time. Meanwhile, he's completely mortified, moreso for Regina than himself. Still, he tries to pretend like Kathryn's statement wasn't suggestive.

"What was she on about?"

Regina sighs and is back to massaging her temples. "Kathryn thinks there's something going on between us."

Well, bollocks. Excellent. Just what they need.

"But, there isn't, right?" he asks with a mild hope that Kathryn is listening outside.

Regina glances again at her clock and gives him a wry smile. "Your students will be here in five minutes, Mr. Locksley, you should probably get to your classroom."

Robin chuckles, figuring that means he's not getting an answer to that question, which could be good or bad. Maybe, she doesn't want to answer it because there's still hope that something will happen between them (or well, something else, since something has sort of happened already). But, Robin won't question her motives for not answering him aloud. He'll find out eventually. That much he knows.

"Yes, Your Majesty, he says cheekily, pacing backward to the door and choosing to leave things as they are.

Regina just lifts up a brow smartly and sips her coffee, which she then tips toward him as a mutual thank you and farewell.

[:]

Halloween arrives in no time.

Robin thanks his lucky stars that the blasted holiday fell on the weekend rather than sometime during the week because if today had been any indication of how his students would behave on the actual day of Halloween, he would've quit on the spot. Each and every one of them was wired and wild to the point that Robin had nearly gone barmy a couple of times during the day. He's convinced that all of their parents must have fed them some Halloween candy before shipping them off to school. And then it didn't help that there was candy and cupcakes galore in his classroom either.

He practically asked for it when he passed out the moist, store-bought chocolate cupcakes, decorated with purple and orange icing and some Halloween garnishes. He should've known it would only exacerbate the raucous mood, but foolishly, he'd hoped for the better and handed out the sweets to the mongrels. And he steadily watched throughout the day, as the sugar slowly disintegrated any remnants of order and civility left in the feral five year olds.

Now, he's paying for it.

The lights in his classroom have been turned off and all the blinds on the windows have been closed shut, effectively blocking out as much light as he possibly can. And yet everything is still fucking bright and loud and making his migraine progressively worse as the day goes on. Thankfully, he put some Excedrin in his desk, or else he'd have no choice but to go home and sleep off the worst headache he's had in his life. Hell, no hangover he's ever had has been this bad. He's half a mind to call Kathryn and tell her that he can't make it to the carnival anyway, but he doesn't want to flake on her last minute, and, if he's being honest, he doesn't want to pass up the opportunity to see Regina in an Evil Queen costume.

And he doesn't miss the opportunity to tell her that either.

They text a lot, him and Regina. Ever since their little coffee rendezvous they've been texting a good bit. Sometimes it'll just be them asking each other how their day went. Other times it'll be full on commentary about the developing presidential election. Usually, he isn't one to get into his political beliefs, especially with women he fancies (although, there was that one time he'd made a comment in passing early on in the year with a girl he'd met at a bar, and she'd proceeded to ask why he cared since he's English—lesson learned), but with Regina, it's different. Perhaps, because he knows she shares similar beliefs or perhaps, because for what seems like the first time in forever, he feels that he can be brutally honest about what he believes. He can actually have an intellectual discussion with someone about something other than sex and booze.

Maybe that's why he's so mad for her.

But then there's also that gorgeous hair and that stunning smile and _those legs_  and—Christ he needs to get a grip.

His mind still lingers on her legs, though, as he texts her dreamily about how he's looking forward to seeing her in her costume. Regina doesn't reply, but he just attributes it to the probability that she's getting ready for the carnival. In fact, he needs to get on as well and get ready. But he's tidying up before Monday because his classroom has been reduced to shambles thanks to the holiday of evil (and that has nothing to do with the dead and everything to do with chaos-hungry children).

He pauses when he reaches Roland Cassidy's desk. Robin noticed that Roland wasn't as actively participating in the day as the other children. The boy wasn't wearing a costume either, as is, apparently, the tradition at Blanchard Orchard. There were other children, as well, who didn't wear any Halloween paraphernalia, but it was Roland who caught his eye. Robin couldn't stop his thoughts from going straight to the idea that his foster parents had completely deprived the boy of the opportunity to celebrate the holiday. Of course, he tries to rationalize it and remind himself that they could've forgotten, or they don't celebrate the holiday, but something in his gut tells him otherwise. He doesn't trust them—he can't explain why, but he just doesn't.

He shouldn't, but he texts Regina again,  _Was Henry wearing a costume today?_

This time she texts back nearly immediately, completely ignoring his first text.  _No, why?_

_Just curious…_  he replies simply, then sets his phone down, assuming Regina isn't texting him back.

But she surprises him when he hears the little twinkle of his phone. He picks it up and reads,  _Wish I believed you._

_Wish I believed myself..._

The notion just comes to him as he sets his phone down and picks a candy wrapper up off of the floor (no need to give the custodial staff extra work)—but he shouldn't do it. It's only asking for trouble. Maybe they just don't celebrate the holiday. Or, maybe, his suspicions are correct and Walsh and Zelena are shit parents, who don't bother to let Henry and Roland have a proper childhood, whether it be because they're lazy or just generally terrible people. Either way, now that the idea has begun to stir up in his mind, he can't seem to ignore it.

All he'd need to do is give the Wests a ring and ask. And what would be the harm in asking? He knows the harm is that they're very likely to turn him down and will probably be offended that he's accusing them of neglect. But, on the other hand, he wants to give the boys things that their utter rotters for foster parents refuse to do.

So, he's decided, then. He marches himself over to his desk and flips hastily through his directory beside his computer monitor. When he lands in the W section, he skims through until he finds the Wests' contact information. He chooses to call the wife, figuring she'd be much more likely to oblige him and mildly less likely to get offended by his proposition.

He pulls out his cell and cautiously dials her number, while continuously questioning if he's about to make a total wanker of himself.

The woman actually answers on the third ring, so he's going to do it one way or the other. She salutes with a pinched and polite hello, which he returns in kind. He adds an introduction, even though he's fairly certain she knows who he is.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Locksley?" she asks brusquely, making it clear she doesn't wish to make conversation aside from whatever it is that he needs.

Robin clears his throat nervously. "I was wondering if you were planning on taking the boys to the school carnival this evening," he tells her.

He can hear the hollow breath she exhales through the receiver before she answers with a curt, "No."

Okay, he was hoping she'd elaborate a little on why she's so hellbent on preventing Henry and Roland from enjoying the scary holiday, but it seems he's not going to get anything out of this woman at all. The thought causes an uprising of panic in his stomach, telling him that this was a mistake after all. He considers hanging up, but he just can't help himself. He has to ask, just needs to get it out of his system.

He clears his throat again and braces himself for the feeling of a boulder dropping into the lower part of his abdomen when he's disappointed. He winces as he asks, "Well, I was curious if you'd let me take them. They won't be out late, I promise. But I'd really like for them to come. Plus, " he tries to sweeten the pot, "it'd give you and your husband a little break. You two could go out for dinner or something."

Mrs. West pauses, making her end dreadfully quiet and only making him more anxious. He can practically hear her thinking up excuses to tell him no. Robin holds his breath and tries to ignore the wave of nausea that ripples through his midsection, as he prepares himself for the no.

"Dinner out would be nice," she starts and Robin can feel the surge of hope bubble up within him, even though he knows a  _but_  is coming so he needs to tamp it back down. "But," Yep. He knew it. "I don't have any costumes for them."

"Oh, that's no problem," he dismisses, "not everyone is wearing a costume. They'll be fine in a whatever they wore today."

The woman goes silent again, mulling over the proposition. He can hear her hum softly and he thinks he hears the boys off in the distance yelling about something. When the yelling gets louder, she hollers over the crescendo, "Okay, be here by 5:30 to pick them up?"

Robin nods and that bubble of hope rises to the crown of his skull, pops, and washes over him gloriously. His chest swells triumphantly as he says, "I'll be there."

[:]

Robin isn't the most notorious for being punctual. In fact, he's shit with time, can't be on time to save his life. But today, he's made an exception. Today, he made sure to be ready and in a timely fashion. He threw his costume on in a matter of minutes when he got back to his apartment. He's never put on a pair of tights so quickly in his life— well, he's never worn tights in his life but, should another opportunity arise, he's certain he won't have to don them as quickly.

And now he's careening down the streets of Albuquerque, trying to get to the Wests' home and trying his best not to call every driver several ugly terms that would make even the foulest Brits blush simply because they're following the law. Plus, he's still got plenty of time, but he's afraid that if he's even a minute late, the Wests will change their minds. He can't have that. He won't have that.

It's unethical that he's doing this, and probably an unwise decision overall, but he's willing to risk it for these boys. He hasn't the slightest idea why, but he does. He's taken a liking to them and has developed some need to protect them. It happens, teachers see needy children all the time that they want to help. He's met teachers who've bought an entire Christmas list worth of gifts for students before. He's heard of them taking them home and sitting with them when their parents are dealing with a crisis or are simply running late. So, what he's doing shouldn't be that surprising, but the lengths he's willing to go, might just tip the scale.

Nevertheless, he's piling on the weights with each passing day without any regard to the potential consequences or repercussions.

He arrives with thirteen minutes to spare, but still doesn't waste time when he gets there. He scrambles out of his car and rushes to the door within seconds. He's breathless, as his knuckles rap against the door several times. While he waits, Robin takes a moment to observe the property. They live in a neighborhood several minutes away from the school. It's not a very high class one. The house is a stout, adobe brick with a dark, coral tint and brown shutters. The landscape is unkempt, with its tiny shrubs all dead and toys strewn all over the yard. He's a fright to see the inside. But he tries not to judge too much. He can only imagine how difficult it must be to keep everything tidy when you've got two young boys mucking about.

They've taken too long to answer the door, and Robin is becoming increasingly uneasy about standing outside in a Robin Hood costume, so he knocks again. Suddenly, he's attuned to the bustling and noises coming from the home. He can hear feet thudding against hardwood, as they presumably near the door and a voice yelling, "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

The door swings open a moment later to reveal young Henry on the other side looking up at him perplexedly. The boy's head tips to one side, then the other, and then he smirks at Robin, giving him a once-over. "You look silly," Henry snickers, mocking Robin's costume.

Before Robin can rib back at the boy, a voice comes from behind him and scolds him harshly, "Henry, that is very rude. Apologize, right now."

Henry's head dips low, casting his eyes downward. "Sorry," he mumbles.

Robin just shakes his head and dismisses it. "It's quite alright," he says with a wave of his hand. "I suppose I do look quite silly."

His eyes dart up and meet with Mrs. West's insisting quietly that she let it be. She says nothing and instead turns her back to him, yelling aloud into the home. "Walsh, honey the boys' teacher is here."

Robin notices that her words sound a bit slurred and that's when he takes a moment to get a good look at the redhead. She looks disheveled and her eyes are glassed over and it hits him all at once. But he doesn't voice his observation for fear that the situation could escalate and the kids could be stuck in the house with a woman drunk in the middle of the day, instead of leaving with him. It's best to get them out of the house. So he says nothing and just smiles politely while he waits, growing more anxious the longer it takes Roland and Mr. West to come down the hall.

But eventually they do, thundering down the hall with Roland squealing excitedly. He barrels right past Mrs. West and straight into Robin's legs. Robin makes a slight groan upon impact, but otherwise smiles down at the boy and gives him a gentle pat on the back.

The older man is following closely behind, appearing like a shadow behind Mrs. West when he reaches them. He greets Robin, "Hey there, don't think we've been introduced, yet. Walsh West." He extends a hand for Robin to shake.

The man exudes confidence, as made obvious by his firm, bordering painful handshake and his bright, bordering overbearing introduction. But, overall the man seems charming and amiable. He's scruffy, with mussed dirty brownish hair and a slight five o'clock shadow. But his eyes twinkle with his smile and make it all too hard to dislike the man.

Robin gives the man a squeeze before introducing himself, "Robin Locksley, I teach Roland."

"Oh yeah, nice to finally meet you, man," Walsh replies, still flashing a smile. "Listen, we appreciate you taking the boys to this thing. I think they'll have a good time. Not to mention, it gives us," he tips his head sideways to his wife, "a chance to have a good time."

Robin feels a small rush of embarrassment for the children to have to hear about their foster parents' sex lives. Not that he really thinks either of them understand what Mr. West has said, but still, it's not something that should be said in front of them.

"Yeah, it's not a problem. I appreciate you letting me take them," Robin says, forcing the best smile he's got.

They all stand there awkwardly for a moment before Mr. West's eyebrows scrunch up. "Oh, did we need to pay you or anything?" he asks.

"Oh, no," Robin waves a hand again. "Not at all. Letting me take them is payment enough."

Mr. West takes a deep breath, then claps his hands together, exclaiming, "Well, alright, then. Boys," he redirects his attention first to Roland, who's still holding onto Robin, then to Henry, who's moved to the porch with Robin and Roland, "you behave for Mr. Locksley here, okay. If we hear you've misbehaved, you know there will be consequences."

It feels as though Mr. West is particularly chastising the older boy and Robin doesn't stop his urge to place a hand on Henry's shoulder. Mr. West's eyes then move to Robin's and there's a flicker of warning, a brief moment where it looks like he's daring Robin to say something. But, that look is gone as quickly as it came, and is replaced with another award winning smile.

"So, when do you think you'll have them back by?" the man asks.

"Well, the thing ends at 8, so I suppose, about half past?" Robin answers, slowly stepping off the porch and guiding the boys with him.

"8:30 sounds good," Mr. West concedes with a nod, as they back away. "Call us if you need anything."

"Yeah, will do," Robin salutes and then gets the courage to turn around, ushering the boys quickly to the car, trying to ignore the uneasiness pooling in his stomach from the whole encounter.

When he gets the boys to the car, he frowns, realizing he doesn't have a carseat for Roland, but when he asks if his parents do, Roland shakes his head vehemently, insisting that his parents have told him he's a big boy and doesn't need a seat. The uneasy feeling in Robin's stomach churns a bit harder, as his worries become increasingly more heightened upon seeing the neglectful nature of their foster parents.

He instructs both boys to sit in the backseat and buckle up real tight. He's thankful the fairgrounds aren't far, but it still makes him distressed, his nerves metastasizing as they take off in his car to their destination

And those nerves fester for the whole ride.

[:]

They get to the fairgrounds at just before quarter 'til, giving him enough time to find Kathryn and explain the situation. Thankfully, enough teachers signed up to help that he's supposed to have a partner all night. He's hoping maybe they'll show him some grace once he tells them what's happened. Worst case scenario, he'll just work an hour at his booth and make sure that the boys don't leave the minigame area. Then, when his hour is up, he can take them to the other attractions— the haunted house, the hay labyrinth, the scary campfire bit that he's sure Henry will love. He just hopes whoever he's working with will be gracious enough.

He gets the boys out of his car, breathing a hefty sigh of relief when he finds both boys safe and completely intact, like he wasn't peeking at them every five minutes in his rearview mirror and driving slower than humanly possible the whole way there. But, he'd worried himself nearly to death, anyway.

Once out of the vehicle, Robin and the boys trek their way through the gravel lot and to the front gates. But Robin stops just a few feet short of the gate when he realizes that he hasn't the ticket money to get the boys in. It's only two dollars, but it's two dollars Robin doesn't have.

Henry catches on immediately, asking, "What's wrong?"

Intuitive, that one.

Robin panics, then rationalizes quickly. There's no way that whoever is at the door would deny access to two little boys.

Robin gets an idea and crouches down to get eye-level with Henry. He grins surreptitiously and whispers to both boys conspiratorially. "You know what a VIP is?"

Both boys shake their heads and Robin continues, "Well, it's like being super special at an event and you get lots of stuff and you get in for free. So tonight, you boys are gonna be VIP, how does that sound?"

Both boys have their eyes suddenly all wide. Roland still looks mildly perplexed, but Henry is fascinated and whispers an excited, "Cool!"

Robin stands and straightens, then looks down at the boys with all the seriousness that he can muster. "Alright, but you guys have to act VIP. Don't take no for an answer and just follow my lead, okay?"

Henry squeaks and nods earnestly in agreement, which Roland mimics, as little brothers do, and Robin can already see that his instructions have gone straight to the boy's head and will most likely result in trouble down the road. He makes a mental note to make sure Henry understands that his VIP status only pertains to this one evening. But, he realizes it might be difficult to explain as Henry triumphantly marches up to the gate, where Ashley is standing and staring down at her phone with a smile.

Her head pops up alarmingly when Henry bounces right in front of her. She tucks her phone away quickly and nervously, then rushes to smile down at Henry, as Robin and Roland finally join them.

"Well, hello there," Ashley greets them brightly.

Henry, on the other hand, skips straight to the point, telling her proudly, "We're on the VIP list."

Ashley tries to cover her smirk and looks to Robin, who peeks at her sheepishly, hoping she can sense his need for a little mercy. He clears his throat, swallows the lump, and says, "I told them they were VIP guests because they were with me," adding pointedly, "meaning they can get in  _for free_."

Thankfully, Ashley's brilliant and lenient because she catches on immediately and answers with, "Well, of course! Come right in gentleman." She swings the gate open and lets them pass through.

Robin gently pushes the boys inside first so that he can mouth a quick thank you to Ashley, who dismisses it with a shake of her head.

"Don't sweat it," she whispers so the boys can't hear.

But Robin raises his voice above a whisper to ask her if she's seen Kathryn, who he hopes is feeling equally as magnanimous. Ashley informs him that the last time she saw her was by the haunted house but that that was twenty minutes ago. He thanks her anyway (again) and says that he'll find her, moving in the direction of the haunted house and calling for the boys to follow along.

He frets during their walk, fearing that Kathryn's going to be right pissed with him when she finds out what he's done. And it's as if the universe wants to make things worse, because when he finds Kathryn, she's with Regina. He spots them from several feet away as they're approaching the haunted house. Kathryn looks frantic and worried, while Regina looks annoyed and— well, and… regal, beautiful, absolutely stunning. His heart screeches to a halt as he takes in her image. She's in all black with a bejeweled bodice that her breasts are pillowing nicely out of the top of and skintight leather pants that go straight to cock, even though that's  _the last_ thing he should be thinking about right now. Her hair placed in wild curls all on one side of her head and there's a tiny hat atop it. He thinks about how much he'd like to muss up that hair right about now. Actually, he can think of several things he'd like to knock askew right about now.

Maybe, he should suggest to her that her outfit seems a bit inappropriate for children— and by children, he definitely means himself.

The women don't notice them as they approach, until Roland finally realizes who it is and squeals, "Ms. MILLS!" and hurls himself at Regina.

Both of the ladies' heads pop up just in time for Regina to squat down and open her arms for the five year-old to enter. He flies into her arms and she nearly topples over, but she greets him warmly, embracing him tightly and lifting him into a hug before hoisting him up on her hip and talking quietly to him.

Henry and Robin eventually reach them and Robin is trying his damned best not to look like he's struggling to keep his eyes off of her. At this point, he's not sure if his heart is beating wildly because he's nervous to speak to Kathryn or if he's so mesmerized by Regina that it's taking its toll.

Henry speaks before he can, greeting both Kathryn and Regina, "Hey Ms. Mills, hey Ms. Midas."

The women respond in tandem, telling Henry hello. Then, Regina goes solo, tipping her head sideways and saying, "You boys are a bit early."

"We came with Mr. Losslee," Roland briefs her excitedly.

"Did you now?" she asks him, but her eyes find Robin's giving him that all too-knowing look.

Her eyes share a mix of concern, judgment, and perhaps, even a little admiration. He might be hallucinating that last bit, but he'd like to believe he's not.

"Uh, yeah," he answers, then shifts his gaze to Kathryn, "which is why I needed to come talk to you, Ms. Midas. I was wondering if my partner in crime for the evening would be willing to do shifts? Maybe I'll do the first hour and then they could do the second? I can just have the boys in the minigame sector where I can keep a good eye on them, then we can do the other stuff."

Kathryn twists her mouth pensively to one side and crosses her arms. He can't get a good read on her, but he thinks, or hopes rather, that she's considering his offer. She glances at her clipboard and studies it, clicking her tongue and making Robin feel like she's being evasive on purpose. She frowns and sighs, as she flips through her papers. But, when she looks down at Henry, then over at Roland, her features soften and she even smiles a little.

"How about you take the first hour with the boys," Kathryn counters, finally meeting his increasingly impatient gaze. "Tinka brought her boyfriend so I'm sure she can rope him into helping. I assume he was going to wallow and brood around her table anyway."

Robin expels all the air in his lungs gratefully, feeling the need to wrap his arms tightly around Kathryn and hug her. But he refrains, and instead, gives his most genuine smile, "Thank you, Kathryn. That sounds perfect."

"Don't worry about it," she tells him politely. "Just promise me you boys will have fun."

"Oh, we will," he says, giving Henry's shoulder a light squeeze.

"Alright, well, I'm going to go give Tink the heads up," Kathryn announces, her fretful edge returning just slightly. "Regina, you good here?"

"Don't worry, princess," Regina says with an eye roll and it's just then that Robin pays any mind to Kathryn's costume.

He thinks for a second that she was going for Elsa from Frozen based on her blue dress, but the top is different and her hair is different, but he doesn't really get a chance to ask because Kathryn is rushing away from their group and yelling behind her, "Oh yeah, remind me to get a picture of you two later. Robin Hood and the Evil Queen— isn't that an interesting pair." She laughs aloud as she walks away, leaving just him, Regina and the kids.

An interesting pair they'd be, indeed.

They stand there awkwardly for a moment, noticeably unsure of what to do next. Regina lets Roland shimmy down her hip and descend to the ground, while Robin stands there and says nothing like a daft git. The boys scamper off to the side to look at a pile of pumpkins, leaving Robin and Regina alone. She's still looking at him oddly, head tilted, lips pursed, eyes scrutinizing. He wonders what she's thinking and why she's analyzing him like a Rubik's cube. But he can't ask, not here, near the kids.

He'll ask her later, definitely.

Robin decides to break the tension to prevent his mind from worrying or jumping the gun. "So, Your Majesty," he drawls with a bit of a smarmy smile.

"Yes, thief," she purrs, eyeing him up and down and goddammit it's hot, making his throat go dry and causing him to squirm in place. And, of course, his eyes go straight to her tits.

_The children, you fucking tuss, there are children right over there._

Robin swallows best he can and tries to shake the slow growing arousal he accidentally initiated. But he can't stop his tongue from doing the will of his mind. "I daresay, you don't look very scary," he tells her bluntly in a whisper, "unless, that is, you're trying to frighten them with your," he glances at her breasts again, "uh, formidable and inimitable... beauty."

Regina's cheeks flush and he can tell she's fighting a smile. He loves that look, it's one of his favorites that she wears. It's a modest version of Regina, one that she tries to bury because this version is more vulnerable and more open. He knows that's something she hates about herself. But he loves her all the more for it.

No. Not love.

Not yet, anyway.

"This isn't the whole outfit," she says, "I have something to cover this," she glances at the boys to make sure they aren't paying them attention, then gestures widely at her chest, "up."

"Ah." He nods.

"But, I look ridiculous, which is what's supposed to scare them."

Robin laughs aloud and inches closer to Regina. "You don't," he speaks softly between them, fighting the urge to reach out for her, "truly, you don't. You look smart, truly stunning."

"Speak for yourself," she snorts, "as you go running amuck in a Robin Hood costume."

"—That I look dashing in, right?" he interjects with a grin.

Regina rolls her eyes, but they're soft, edging on laughter. "Sure."

"You look phenomenal, too, by the way," he flirts with a wink and another step toward her.

Regina gives him a wry smile, trying her damned best to look annoyed, or at the very least, unamused, but her features betray her still. "You already said that."

"I did not," he answers indignantly.

"You did in so many words," she shoots back, and she's right. Of course, she is, because he can never deny an opportunity to flatter her.

He sighs in concession. "Fine, I s'pose I'll just quit complimenting you, then."

Regina goes to retort, but is cut off by the sounds of the boys returning to their spot. They're red faced and short of breath from running around but Henry manages to huff out, "Uh, I think the carnival is starting," and jabs his thumb behind him to the tiny crowd pouring into the area. "You should probably get to your post," he chastises Regina.

Robin has a passing thought about Henry being a perceptive little bugger, and notices that Regina is probably thinking the same when he catches her eye. She's smiling at Henry and thanking him politely for his observation. She gives his chin a little squeeze and looks back to Robin when she says she needs to go.

He's loath to see her go, wishes she could abandon her duties like him and spend the evening with them, instead. But, he knows there's no chance in hell that Kathryn would sacrifice both of them, even if she does suspect something is going on between them. So, he yields respectfully, as it's his only option.

"Yes, we should let Her Majesty get back to her throne. Tell Ms.— I mean,  _Queen_  Mills, that we'll see her later, boys."

They start uttering goodbyes and Regina warns them to behave with Robin and to go easy on him, to which Robin answers, "Preposterous! Merry Men don't behave, but I'll keep 'em straight as best I can," with a wink.

"Right," Regina says dubiously, "well, while you're doing that," she glances at the boys again, "you Merry Men keep Robin Hood, here, in line as well, okay?"

Both boys nod furiously in acceptance of the challenge. Regina flashes a small smile at each of them and turns to go, calling behind her that she'll see them later. Robin watches her all the way to the door of the haunted house and doesn't return his attention to the boys until she's carefully slipped inside, disappearing from his sight.

When he does turn back to the boys he asks, "So, what do you boys want to do first? We can do the hayride, the hay maze, the campfire, the haunted house…"

Roland speaks up first, jumping up and down and yelling, "Hayride, hayride!"

Robin looks to Henry, who shrugs, giving his okay.

"So it's settled, then. Hayride it is. Let's go, Merry Men," Robin commands.

The boys hurrah behind him and they march their way to the hayride.

[:]

The hayride turns out to be pretty fun. Robin feared that Henry wouldn't enjoy himself because he didn't seem particularly keen on the idea, and had decided to be a good big brother, instead, which is different from the tune he was singing weeks ago. Robin chooses to think that it was their little talk at Regina's place that changed his perspective a little, giving him a tiny swell of pride at the idea that he might have been a good influence on someone for once. But thankfully, regardless of Henry's newfound respect for his brother, both of the boys seemed to enjoy themselves during the ride. He thinks Henry particularly enjoyed it because of the few jump scares that were littered throughout the ride. Roland, on the other hand, seemed less receptive to that bit, which was made quite apparent when Henry begged to go again and Roland responded with a firm and whiny  _no_.

But Robin manages to find a compromise, telling Henry that they'll do it again, if they have time after the other stuff. Henry cooperates, too, agreeing to move forward with their agenda and happily goes with them to the hay labyrinth, which effectively ruins the idea of them repeating the hayride, given that it takes them a solid 30 plus minutes to find their way out, leaving just enough time for them to get to the haunted house and maybe sit around the haunted campfire for one story.

The line is pretty lengthy when they reach the haunted house and Henry doesn't seem the least bit fazed that it could shoot their other plans straight to hell. In fact, Henry seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself—Roland, too—and Robin feels pretty proud of himself. All the work that it took to get them here is finally paying off. Henry seems awestruck by everything and Roland is trucking along happily, having his own fun and downing more cotton candy than Robin probably should have allowed him to have. But, Robin has the feeling that the boys don't get spoiled very often, so what the hell. What's one night going to hurt?

Except him, when he has to watch the boys go back to these foster parents that Robin wholly does not trust. And, well, the boys, of course, because it's apparent their foster parents don't give a damn about treating the boys to nice things. So, cock it all, he's going to let Roland eat all the cotton candy his heart desires and he's going to let Henry have as much fun as he could possibly ever have.

Plus, Robin gets to be a little selfish and indulge in his own sweets and fun. And he's starting to think spending time with the boys, period, is becoming a bit selfish.

If that's the case, then call him selfish.

"You boys having fun?" he asks after taking a swig of coke from his cup.

Henry is sipping his cup, too, so he simply nods, while Roland gives a muffled, "Yeah," behind a mouthful of cotton candy.

"Roland," Robin warns gently, "you need to chew your food before you speak."

Roland looks away from Robin sadly, murmuring a somber, "Okay, sorry."

Robin is quick to wipe away his worries, though. "It's okay," he says, tenderly patting his curls, "I just don't want you to choke."

Roland silently nods in understanding and makes a point to show Robin that he's devoutly chewing his cotton candy.

After that they make small talk, conversing over what Henry's learning in Regina's class and which is his favorite subject—it's language arts, he loves language arts, particularly the reading portion, which delegates them to a rousing discussion about the  _Magic Treehouse_  books that he adores. Robin makes a mental note during the conversation to buy a few of the books for Henry, but Henry mentions that his foster mother won't allow books like that in their home because she was brought up in a strict home that did not dawdle on anything supernatural (it's why he hasn't started the  _Harry Potter_  series, yet, either) so he can only read them at school. Robin will find a way though, of that much he's certain.

Between that conversation and Robin taking advantage of the time given to help Roland practice his alphabet and counting to 25, it carries them through the long wait in line and they eventually reach the door, where they're hurriedly ushered inside with a dark warning to stay in the light and beware of the Evil Queen, who stalks the house at night. Both Henry and Roland snicker at that because they're completely aware that that's just Regina and that they have nothing to fear and Robin has to quietly reprimand them to not give away her secret.

But, despite their disbelief in the ruse, the haunted house still succeeds in getting a few jumps out of Henry, which he will deny later, Robin is sure, and a good, solid scream out of Roland, who's now cowering against his leg as they near the end of the house. They haven't seen Regina, yet, but he figures she's part of the big finale. So, he takes a little time to enjoy the scenery, admiring the intricate designs of shadows and cobwebs and the eerie green and red lighting that's placed meticulously to provide the premium amount of scariness and uneasiness. He should compliment Kathryn on that at some point.

Robin's favorite part, though, is Regina, who is at the very end of a long hallway, following several jump scares in succession. She's sitting in a black bejewled and spiky throne, which matches her outfit quite nicely. In her hand, she's holding a heart, that is made to look bloody and damaged. She's cackling madly, squeezing the heart in her hand and threatening to eat theirs if they don't leave now. Robin takes pause and stares at her for just a second, just a hair longer than he should, and he thinks she gives him a dark smoulder, one that makes his heart stop and his palms sweat and he finds himself wanting to hold onto that look for as long as he can. And if it wasn't for Henry, who has to urge them to leave and lead them out, Robin Hood might have found himself lingering in the darkness with the Evil Queen.

When they make it out of the house and back to a designated pathway, Henry is out of breath but nevertheless exclaiming how cool the attraction was. He even goes so far as to confessing that Regina was still scary, then begs to do it again. But, Robin realizes there's no time. He's got to be at his post in ten minutes, which also means they probably don't have time for the campfire either and he tells Henry so with a frown and a sincere apology. A solitary whine escapes Henry and Roland follows suit with a smaller one. Thankfully though, the pouting from both the boys doesn't even pass the thirty second mark before they woefully agree to head over to the minigame area.

Robin promises the boys that they'll have fun with the minigames as he tosses the remnants of their food and drinks in the rubbish bin and it's met with excitement rather than protest, giving Robin a chance to breathe. It's not like he minds reprimanding the boys—he's made a career out of it—but he'd rather the night be happy and fun. Though, he shouldn't be as naïve to believe that that's possible. But, he hopes anyway. Christ, he hopes.

But a little admonishing is in order, he realizes when they reach the gate of the minigame area. He stops them just shy of the entrance and pulls the boys aside. He squats to be at eye level with the boys and to assure that his point is emphasized.

"Alright, Merry Men," he addresses them sternly, "You see this area?" He gestures at the minigames and the boys nod. "Alright, you are not to leave this area, do I make myself clear? And you are not to go out of my sight. If you cannot see me from where you are, then I cannot see you. And that's not okay. If you leave my sight, I will come find you and I will make you sit at my game table until the carnival is over and you won't get to play anymore. Do you understand?"

The boys nod, but Roland begs, "Can we go in now pleaseeeee?"

Robin chuckles and steps out of their way. "After you gentlemen."

They take no hesitation and jet off through the gate into the area, running well ahead of Robin, who chooses to stroll slowly behind them. He watches their eyes go wide and Roland mouth a big  _whoa_  in response to the lights and all the toys hung up as prizes. Robin is thankful that the games are free so that the boys can play them to their hearts' content.

"Hold on, boys," Robin hollers after them, realizing that before he let's them run about, he should probably show them where he's going to be and where they can and cannot go.

They stop and wait for Robin to catch up, still gleaming with excitement and eagerness. Robin tells them the plan and they agree, following him to his table, which is empty at the moment, save Tinka, who is sitting in a sparkly green leotard and tutu, with her blonde hair in a bun on top of her head and spritely little wings peeking out from behind her.

"Well, hello there Tinkerbell," he greets her with a chuckle.

Tinka's head pops up from her phone with a warm, genial smile. "Oh, hi, Mr. Robin Hood," she answers sweetly.

Robin points to Henry and Roland, "These are my Merry Men."

Tinka salutes them, as well, "Hello, Merry Men."

"I don't know what that is," Henry tells her plainly.

Robin frowns. It'd never really crossed his mind that the boys might not have ever seen any version of Robin Hood. He wonders why Henry hadn't asked sooner. He's curious if Henry was worried about admitting that to Robin, which breaks his heart to think about. But, he still answers Henry anyway, "It's like Robin Hood's club. His best mates are the Merry Men."

"So we're in your club?" Henry asks.

"Of course, you are," Robin replies without missing a beat.

Henry beams a bit at that and it soothes Robin's worries, taking it as an opportunity to move on to his orders. He shows them the areas he can't see past and places they can't go. The boys agree to their terms and conditions and get ready to head off, but Robin stops them before they get too far.

"You boys don't want to try your hand at this game first?" he suggests, mostly because he wants to keep the boys around because he already misses them. He side glances at Tink, who's watching him empathetically, probably knowing what he's feeling.

He knows there are other fun games with water guns and knocking down clown heads with a ball, but he wishes that he could keep them for just a little while longer, an urge he knows he's going to have even worse when the night ends.

For the first time, really, Robin can tell that Henry and Roland are brothers because they both make the same scrunched nose frown in response. It's actually quite adorable now that he thinks about it, heart meltingly so. But, Robin is more offended than distracted by the cute because of the boys disinterest in darts. However, he wears a smug smile and steps toward the table to grab a single dart, then lines himself up with the target and aims. Robin tosses the dart, watching as it flourishes in the air and spins in a low arc toward its endpoint. With a soft thud, it collides with the wood, landing just at the edge of the center target, straddling the border between the two circles.

Damn, he's out of practice.

But, Henry is still astounded, standing there gobsmacked at Robin's aim. He turns to Robin with big, curious eyes. "Can you show me how?"

"Me next! Me next!" Roland cries out, jumping up and down excitedly, as Robin agrees to show them.

He waves Henry over and directs him where to stand in front of the target. He swipes two darts off of the table—one for him and one for Henry and begins to explain the process. "Alright, now there are certain things you need to remember when throwing darts, okay?"

"Okay," Henry says with a heavy amount of seriousness.

"Now, you just need to remember: F.E.W.T., which is feet, elbow, wrist and throw," Robin instructs, grabbing the boy's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "So, okay, feet first. You right-handed?" he asks and Henry nods. "Okay, good. So, you're gonna want to put your right foot up front."

Robin demonstrates, placing his right foot just in front of his body, while his left stays planted where it is. Henry mimics, moving his right foot to be parallel with Robin's and doing the same with his left. When they're situated Robin continues by pulling Henry a hair to the right to line him up with the target.

"So, now you want to take your elbow," he says, tapping the one he's referencing, "And you want to line it up with the target."

Henry does as he's told and Robin tells him, while taking his elbow and lowering it, "Now, lower it back down here and lock it into place." When he's done that, Robin adds, "Okay, last is the wrist which you flick at just the right time to make it go faster. Some say you don't need it but I learned the technique with it so we're going to go for it. Now, don't throw the dart yet, but I want you to practice a couple throws. Remember to keep your shoulder locked in place. The only things that move are your elbow and your wrist."

Henry listens intently, making movements and adjusting them according to Robin's coaching. A thought briefly flits across Robin's mind of him doing the same with his father in the study when he was young. It was part of the good times before his dad turned into a sodding prick. He can barely remember those years, given that they were before Robin even hit double digits. But those years were favorites of Robin's. It was the only time his dad had seemed genuinely interested and it was probably one of the few times Robin's ever been genuinely happy.

"Am I doing it right?" Henry asks loudly, ripping Robin away from his delicate memories.

Robin watches Henry's arm move up and down swiftly, practicing his throw. Robin knows he won't make it to the center. His throw's a bit lopsided and awkward, something Robin remembers he also did as a young lad. But Robin tells Henry that he's doing well, anyway, to reassure him.

"Alright, I'm going to throw mine and I want you to watch my arm as I do it, okay?"

Robin tells Henry to move over, commenting that they'll get him back in the right place in a moment, lines himself up with the target, and makes certain that Henry is watching, then tosses his dart at the target. It lands further inside the center than his first dart, but still not where Robin would like it. Henry is still amazed, though.

Robin turns to the boy and gestures to where he's standing. "Alright, mate, let's see you give it a go."

Henry takes Robin's place and centers himself with the target (and Robin has to move him slightly to the right again). He practices one more fake throw, takes a deep breath and chucks the dart at the target. Everyone—Henry, Robin, Roland and Tinka—all watch it soar all the way until it hits the board, landing on the ring outside of the center and toward the upper right.

Henry heaves a frustrated sigh, despite Robin and Tinka's whooping praises. When he turns to Robin, he's frowning solemnly. "I missed," he says with a stomp.

Robin's quick to dismiss it. He walks over and gives Henry's shoulder another squeeze. "You did good for your first throw. It took me ages to do what you just did, so well done you."

"Really?"

Robin nods, "Yeah. Couldn't even make a proper throw for months."

Henry laughs, leaving Robin relieved. "You must have sucked, then."

Robin thinks he should scold the boy for the language, but he just agrees quietly, accepting that he actually was quite rubbish when he started. "Yeah, well practice makes perfect."

"Will you help me practice one day?"

Henry's eyes are so hopeful and it kills Robin knowing that'll probably never happen. And yet, he still tells Henry that, of course, he will, because he can't break the boy's heart, let alone his own heart, which wants more than anything to give Henry that opportunity. He side glances at Tinka, who's giving him a wry smile, because she's thinking exactly what he is. Robin is entering dangerous territory, letting these kids get too attached to him and furthermore, allowing himself to get too attached to these boys.

She finally speaks up, too, deciding to interrupt the happy moment, "You boys should go play some games before you have to go home."

Roland protests, citing that Robin has to show him how to throw the dart, to which Robin promises that he will do later. And that's enough for Roland, who concedes with a slight pout and grabs his brother's hand. Henry asks what Roland wants to do (water guns, no surprise there) and they head off, with Robin hollering warnings that they stay together and don't leave his sight.

When they've reached another booth and start to play, Robin finally feels comfortable enough to sit next to Tinka, who does not waste their freedom to speak her mind. "You're good with them," she tells him matter-of-factly.

Robin shrugs it off, still watching after the boys. "Kinda comes with the territory of being a teacher, don't you think?"

"No," she states firmly, "I don't."

He knows what she's getting at, but he doesn't want to quite confront it. He thinks again of his father and thinks about how he hadn't really treated Robin like he's treating Henry and Roland, aside from the scant years of his early youth. Robin's being more of a father to the boys than his own father ever was to him and probably more than their foster parents are to them. And here he thought he would be shit at it, due to the fact that he was never given a proper model for being a dad.

Suddenly, he feels this wave ripple through his stomach, that tells him what he's known all night.

He'd give anything in this world to be a dad, and particularly, to those boys.

It's not anything he's ever felt with a student before, but it's clear and indiscernible, now, sending off bells and whistles and making him want to rise from his chair and scream it aloud. It's crazy. He's only known them for a few months and only spent time with the both of them together a few times, but when he looks over at the boys, his stomach does the wave again and he just  _knows_. He glances at Tinka, who's studying him, observing as his heart sings with his discovery. She's looking back at him all too knowingly, making him feel naked and exposed.

"It's okay to love them, you know," she whispers between them. "You wouldn't be the first."

"You psychoanalyzing me, Tinkerbell?" he tries to pierce their bubble with a joke. He's uncomfortable. Admitting his feelings to himself is one thing, but admitting them aloud and to a relative stranger makes him feel as though he might as well go streaking through the fairground.

Tinka smiles, but it's nearly… condescending. "I specialize in children. And besides, I don't think you need a fairy or a psychologist to tell you what you're feeling. I think you already know it."

She's right. He knows she's right. But, she doesn't need to know that. He doesn't have to tell her a bloody damn thing. Except, he feels that it might be good to at least inadvertently release the burden that now weighs on his chest.

"I promised them that I'd protect them," he confesses to her. "In Regina's apartment, the day their foster mum forgot them."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Robin says dreamily, reminiscing on the day.

Tink hums, then requests, "Tell me about it."

And he does. He tells her all about them teaching him about Trouble and how they kicked his arse (he doesn't leave out the part of him learning how to get under Regina's skin by taking her peg's spot) and how he and Henry had a heart-to-heart and they ate sandwiches and watched cartoons. He doesn't even realize how caught up he gets in his tale until a young boy and his mother interrupt them to play.

They pause their private conversation to allow them to have a go at the dartboard and don't resume until the boy's won a toy and the pair have walked several feet away.

And the second they have, Tinka pounces. "So, you want to be a part of the boy's lives for good, huh?"

It catches Robin off-guard, leaving him stumbling for words. "That's a bit of a loaded question, don't you think?"

Tink shrugs, "Probably, but oh well..."

While confessing all of this has been quite cathartic, Robin feels like he probably shouldn't be bearing his whole soul to a near stranger. He has a brief idea that maybe he should tell all this to Regina—she is his closest friend after all. But, he's scared to. Maybe, because she'll be brutally honest and remind him that what he's dreaming of is nearly impossible, or maybe, because he's afraid he'll scare her off in the process.

It's almost as if Tinka can hear his thoughts because she poses another question, "So in this picture perfect life you've begun to create with these boys—because let's be honest, we both know you have— is Regina there, too?"

It's another question that throws him, but, at least, it's one he has an answer for. Robin scoffs, "You know Regina. She'll only be there if she wants to be."

Tinka laughs aloud and agrees. "Touché."

They have to pause again for more people, which develops into a queue of people and Robin thinks their conversation might just be finished. But, as luck would have it, the line eventually dissipates again, leaving Tinka to continue berating him.

Except she doesn't and instead, sips on her cocoa and eyes him curiously. He knows she's stewing on something, waiting for the perfect moment to drag one last secret out of him.

"Go on," he sighs wearily, "say it."

"Say what?" she asks sweetly, which hits a bit of a nerve with him.

He thinks it comes across, too, when he says, "Whatever it is you're thinking right now."

Tink takes another sip of her cocoa, and mutters something about her boyfriend needing to hurry up with her new one because the one she has is cold. "Can I offer you some free advice?" she queries, returning her attention back to him.

"By all means," he allows, even though he knows he doesn't want to hear it. But, he has a feeling he would have to anyway.

She takes a deep breath and locks eyes with him with a seriousness that shakes him to his core. "Be careful," she warns. "I've seen this before and it doesn't always end well. In fact, it often doesn't end well. I've seen some teachers get too involved and they end up getting themselves or even the kids hurt, whether that be emotionally or physically. You have to be wary about that shit, you know?"

Robin swallows thickly. Once again, she's right even though he doesn't want her to be. He knows he shouldn't dig himself in too deeply, considering he's more than likely at present to get hurt. But he just can't help himself. And that will be his foil.

Tinka clears her throat, "And I don't just mean be careful with the kids either."

Robin tries his hardest not to smile. "I dunno what you're on about."

"Kathryn's told me her suspicions about you two, but don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Just promise you'll be mindful of her. She's a hard nut to crack, one that I haven't ever been able to open in all the time I've known her. That said, I'm not as close with her as say Kathryn. But I do know that Regina has a lot of walls built up and they've been building since before she and I met. Just promise you won't force her walls down or give up when she's not ready to let them down."

"Oh, I never plan on giving up on her," he answers quickly, but amends when he sees Tink's entire face light up in excitement and it dawns on him what he's just let her on, "whether that be romantically or otherwise."

She's still grinning profusely, undeterred by his amendment. "I'm glad we're on the same page," she sings happily.

"I don't think we are exactly," he chuckles, "but thank you for the advice."

"Anytime."

They make small conversation after that, shifting to lighter topics and less emotionally damning ones. Her boyfriend, (Killian, he thinks), Liam's brother, returns with the hot cocoa a few moments later and joins in on their conversation about Robin's stint in L.A. The boys also return every now and again to show Robin what they've won, which elicits a few stares from Tinka, but still makes him proud. Between that and the spurts of patrons, time passes along nicely, driving straight into the end of the night. And before he knows it, it's a quarter till 8 and Tink is suggesting they go ahead and pack up.

Reluctantly, Robin helps them, but he dreads it all because it's the beginning of the end. Soon, he'll be returning the boys home and then going back to his own apartment to wallow in his sorrows. His heart only aches harder when the boys return, pouting over the realization that the evening is drawing to a close. Henry even says that he wishes they could stay at the carnival forever and Robin can't help but think the exact same thing. But he has to be stronger than that and put on a good facade. So, he insists that it's time for them to go, but that there will be a plethora of opportunities, in the future, where they can do something like this, even though he knows that's unlikely, especially now that Tink's words are ringing in his head. But, it placates the boys, which is all that really matters.

As they're tidying up their area, Kathryn arrives, looking a little less frantic than she was earlier and, in fact, looking almost smug. They greet her and she jumps into helping pack up the table, while asking everyone politely how their night went. After the jumbled chorus of  _greats_  and _it was funs,_  Kathryn finally gets to the real reason she's there.

She turns to Tinka, who's handing a few of their remaining prizes to Henry and Roland. "Ti, I got your text. We are going to have to go back to the school for that thing."

Tinka tuts softly, delivering a dramatic, "Darn."

"We should go ahead and leave as soon as you all are done packing," Kathryn tells her all business-like.

Robin thinks they're up to something. They're acting weird, or at least, he thinks they are. Then he  _knows_  they are when they turn to him, making him every bit as nervous as earlier in the evening.

"Robin," Kathryn says sweetly, batting her fake eyelashes stupidly. If she doesn't stop they'll get caught on each other and Robin won't be able to stop himself from laughing.

But, at present, he just rolls his eyes, knowing officially that they have something up their sleeves. "Yes, Kathryn," he humors her.

She sighs dramatically and it takes all of Robin's will power not to just blurt out that she can just tell him whatever cockamamie plan it is that she's concocted.

"I hate to ask this," she whines, "but we're going to be awhile and I was wondering, since you know where she lives, if you'd be willing to take Regina home?"

...Oh.

Not exactly what he had in mind. He figured she was going for something a little more deceptive, but it appears not. Of course, he knows this is still some elaborate ruse to get him and Regina alone, but maybe they're just using their circumstance as an opportunity and not anything more insidious.

"I mean, we can even drop the boys off, I know they live nearby," Kathryn pleads, trying to sweeten the deal.

Robin waves it away. "No, no, don't be ridiculous. I don't mind taking Regina home in the least."

"Really?" Both Kathryn and Tinka squawk together happily.

He should tell them to calm down before they blow their cover, even though it's already been blown. Instead, he just whispers sarcastically, "Really."

Kathryn claps her hands together happily. "Perfect. Well, Tinka and I have to run our errand." She reaches out and grabs his arm, "Robin, thank you. I think Regina is still at the haunted house. I can go get her and send her over if you'd like."

Robin dismisses that suggestion, too, citing that there's no need and that he'll go fetch her since they're done packing up where they are. Kathryn thanks him and signals for Tinka and the boyfriend, who just stood by and watched the whole thing unfold, to follow her, leading them back toward the front gate. Robin does the same with Henry and Roland, though Roland ends up in his arms because he notices the boy's lids getting a tad droopy. Not to mention, he can almost smell the unmistakable stench of attitude that reeks from sleep deprived children.

Henry stays close by Robin's side, enough that he bumps into him a few times, resulting in profuse apologies. But Robin ignores them, telling Henry he's fine. Aside from the stream of apologies, their walk is fairly quiet. Robin is almost sure Roland's gone to sleep by the time they reach the haunted house and Henry is just looking around the field, saying nothing at all.

They find Regina easily because she conveniently comes storming out the doors of the building just as they're approaching them.

She comes to a screeching halt just before running right into them. She looks about as frazzled as Kathryn had been earlier and certainly as irritated, if not, moreso.

"Hey," he tries to say with a level of soothing, wishing he could reach out for her.

Regina doesn't take his offer of solace, but asks stubbornly, "Have you seen Kathryn?"

Right. Kathryn didn't tell her. Of course, she wouldn't.

"Uh," he coughs, "she and Tinka left 'bout five minutes ago on an errand."

Regina's level of frustration increases tenfold and Robin almost thinks to tell the boys to take cover before she blows. She huffs out petulantly, "Do you know when she'll be back?"

"I don't," he admits. "But don't worry, I've offered to take you home." He decides to completely omit the fact that Kathryn actually asked him because he can tell she's upset and he doesn't want to make it any worse.

She pauses and softens, caught off-guard by Robin's offer. "I can't ask you to do that," she states plainly.

"You didn't," he says with a shake of his head. "I offered."

He watches Regina swallow and mull it over. He can tell something else is bothering her, it lies just beneath the surface, but it's there, faintly shimmering off of her skin. He wants to ask, but like before, he knows he needs to wait, wait until they're alone in his car before saying anything.

"So, whaddya say, Your Majesty?"

Regina glances up at him and locks on his eyes. If they weren't so gentle, he might think she was trying to square off with him, but they're starting to radiate with that underscored nerve that seems to be bouncing off of her. Her words though are just as bitter and terse, as she begins walking, presumably accepting his answer in silence. "How about I just wait for them to return so I can strangle the both of them?"

Robin just chuckles and pushes the back of his hand against hers, as he walks alongside her. "Y'know, a simple thank you would suffice."

Regina casts her face away, looking off to the south end of the fairgrounds and Robin thinks he can hear a soft, "Thank you," fall from her lips.

She quickly builds on top of it though, requesting that Henry come hold her hand, which he does without question. The rest of their journey to his car rests in sweet silence.

[:]

The ride home is less silent, however. Henry tells Regina every last possible detail about their evening all the way until the pull up to the house. Roland is still sound asleep during the entire ride and even stays asleep when he and Regina lug him out of the vehicle. In fact, it takes them longer to get Henry out of the car, who is adamant that he doesn't want to go home yet. It nearly breaks Robin to tell him that he has to. And it doesn't help that a small voice inside of Robin insists there's a deeper reason that Henry doesn't want to go back, which has nothing to do with the fun he had at the carnival. Thankfully, Regina is there and can force Robin's hand, because if he was alone, there's no telling how this night would have ended.

After Regina's strict reprimand of Henry, they get him to the door, where they're greeted by Mr. West. Mrs. West appears to be missing in action, but neither he nor Regina question it. The man thanks Robin and Regina, though she denies any part in caring for the boys, and doesn't even attempt to make any conversation past that. He insists that it's late and that he should get the boys to bed and before Robin or Regina can really protest, Mr. West ushers the boys inside and closes the door on them.

Regina's the first to leave the porch and head back to the car, while Robin stands there for a moment, still feeling like he's in the Twilight Zone. The encounters with the Wests are definitely weird, but even Regina is exceptionally quiet. But he doesn't push or pry, knowing that if it's anything serious she'll say something.

Yet, she doesn't say anything for the entire ride, aside from briefly asking if he enjoyed himself, which he did  _thoroughly_. In fact, he might go as far as saying, that this was the most fun he's had in ages. He wishes every second could be on repeat. But, he doesn't tell her any of that. Instead, he simply tells her that he had a great time, immediately plunging them back into the heavy silence they've been stewing in.

It stays that awkward for rest of the ride home. Neither of them bother to make anymore conversation and don't really speak at all until they reach her apartment building.

Regina nearly jumps out of the car the second the car is parked at her place. But Robin doesn't let her get away that quickly.

"Let me walk you to your door," he offers on the heels of her thanks for bringing her home.

Regina shakes her head, steadfast in trying to get him out of her hair. He isn't totally thick. He can tell when a woman is trying to avoid him.

"That won't be necessary," she tacks on, as if her body language didn't say enough.

Robin reaches for her hand, which is ice cold he notices, and forces her attention to him. Their eyes come into contact and Robin dips his voice into a careful whisper. "C'mon," he pleads, "besides this is a completely selfish request."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he shrugs. "I selfishly want to spend more time with you. I miss you."

He sees that that wins her over a bit because he gets a glimpse of her smile as she turns away.

"You think that walking me to my door will satisfy that?" she sasses, hand reaching for the door handle.

"I don't but I believe it'd be entirely selfish and rude to ask for more."

She's quiet for a moment before she pulls on the handle and wriggles her way out of her seat. He feels his heart take a nosedive as he watches her slide out. But, his heart's suicide mission is useless, when she turns to him and asks, "You coming?"

Robin doesn't need to be asked twice. He scrambles to undo his seatbelt and get out of his seat, nearly face planting on the pavement as he does so.

Regina's halfway to the front door before he catches up to her, his chest heaving from the short distance he ran. He mentally curses himself and insists he should maybe start going for morning runs or something. But he catches up in enough time to hold the door open for her like the gentleman he is. "M'lady."

Regina just saunters past him wordlessly and apparently walks quickly enough that he has to do more catching up as they make their way to her front door.

"You're a difficult woman to keep up with," he tells her breathlessly, as he catches up once again.

Regina ignores that and fishes around in her bag for her keys. She finds them rather quickly and unlocks her door, but stops before going inside. She turns back to Robin, who's taken to sulking over the prospect of leaving. She tucks the mop of hair behind her ear and steps ever-so-slightly in his direction. "Thank you, for the ride home. I appreciate it."

"S'no problem," he says, taking his own step to her.

Regina's eyes begin a road trip, looking at him up and down before speaking what's on her mind. "You need to be careful," she warns darkly.

He knows she means about the boys, so he disregards it nonchalantly. "Don't worry, I got a whole lecture from Tinka earlier."

"And as much as it kills me to say, and I'll deny it if you ever tell her, but she's right. Those boys are in a compromising situation and they can be here one minute and gone the next and getting attach—"

"Regina," he cuts her off, "I  _know_."

She takes a frustrated and deep breath. "Okay," she concedes, "just remember that okay. Please."

Robin agrees eagerly, realizing that she is genuinely concerned about all of this. He knows he's pushing his own limits and one wrong move will break his heart and tear him to bits. Maybe, Regina's been there. Or, maybe she just knows him better than he thinks she does. Regardless, she's right and he knows he needs to get out of the pool before he goes in too deep without a way to keep afloat.

"Well," she sighs, clearly changing the subject, "goodnight, Robin."

Her soft, sullen eyes lock on his and bid him farewell.

He's lost, can't take up any more of her time and he knows it and it's clear she doesn't want him to. He needs to do the gentlemanly (and friendly) thing to do and walk away. And he will, right after he gives her a once over, taking in her gorgeous get-up. When he finishes, he tells her goodnight and begins to stalk away from her door, listening carefully for the sound of her door closing behind him to signal the end of the night. Except, it never comes. His mind irrationally goes to the idea that a murderer was waiting for her behind the door and other ridiculous strains. But before he can even turn around, he hears her voice.

"Wait," she calls after him into the hall.

He freezes on the spot and slowly turns back to Regina, who is standing there with tired eyes and a sort of crooked smile.

"Don't go yet," she whispers and his heart lurches forward. Maybe this is his chance to put his hat back in the ring.

He resists the urge to smile like a shameless git, twisting his face into something that probably looks a bit wonky to her. Ah, but to hell with it. Why should he have to cover up his feelings for her anyway? She knows how he feels. And besides, he wants her to  _know_  that he cares.

Perhaps, she's doing the same. She's asking him to stay and he wants to, he  _really_  wants to. But what would that mean? He tries to remind himself that it could be completely innocent and that he's simply jumping to conclusions, but what if it isn't?

He looks up at her guiltily, as if he's asked or he's up to something. "You think that's a good idea?" he queries nervously. His voice is quiet, with the hope that his words will be drowned out by the symphony of sounds from the rest of the world.

"Oh," she says and he thinks she appears crestfallen but then she looks at him with this soft, sheepish smile. "It's not that," she tells him, as she shoves a loose piece of hair behind her ear and crosses her arms. "I mean, it is partially that, of course," she corrects, "I mean, I like spending time with you, but it's—uh—my costume. Kathryn was supposed to help me get out of it, but you know…"

He blinks at her for a second before releasing a relieved chuckle. Well, that didn't answer the innocence angle.

"Will you help?" she asks, dancing nervously in her doorway. And oh, she's adorable.

He grins boyishly, unable to help himself. But he, otherwise, walks over without answer, and he assumes that's answer enough. He brings himself toe to toe with her and chuckles softly between them.

"This your way of seducing me?" he asks, backing her into her apartment measuredly.

She barks a laugh, but her gaze does not falter from his. "You're going to be the one undressing me and I'm seducing you?"

"You asked," he points out, as he closes the door behind him.

He tries to pay no mind to the fact that he can barely swallow down the bundle of nerves closing off his airway and the way his palms moisten with anxious pools of sweat. His body tries to send him a warning that a revolt of his nerves is afoot, but he stands there with a tight smile waiting for Regina's instructions.

He just can't think about it. Can't think about the fact that he's about to undress the woman he's absolutely mad for. Can't think about the possibility of seeing more skin of Regina than he's ever seen before, which may very well ruin any good intention he ever had of being her friend. He's not a total dog—he can control himself—but he knows he'll just fall more deeply for her and have no exit strategy whatsoever to save him.

Perhaps, he should just be a gentleman an excuse himself. She'll understand, right? Or, she could see right through it, and know that he's being a cad, that he can't restrain himself. He really fancies lose-lose situations.

She's turning back to face him with a smile still shining on her face. "Yes," she whispers conspiratorially, harmonizing with a muted chuckle, "I'm only realizing now how forward that was."

He shrugs, continuously trying to push the concerns in the back of his mind and attempts a blasé angle. "Well, I have been told I've a talent for getting women out of their clothes."

Regina rolls her eyes. "I don't know that I'd so much as call that a talent," she says, as she traipse down the hall toward her bedroom.

Of bloody course, she wants to get undressed in the bedroom. That just screams inappropriate. Nevermind that she probably wants to undress there because it has other clothes for her to quickly change into, but his mind has gone straight to sex.

And he should not be thinking about Regina in any sexual manner.

Regina is wrestling her feet out of the vices women call shoes, as he crosses the threshold aimlessly. He watches her struggle with the buckle on them for a second or two, before he finally enters the room and instructs her to sit on the edge of the bed. She does as she's told without question and he slaps his knee forcefully to instruct her to place her foot there so that he can attend to her imprisoned feet. He carefully fiddles with the buckles, undoes them, and draws each foot out gently.

He can't help but imagine his hands trailing upwards from her ankle, running his fingers smoothly against her stocking-veiled calves, until he reaches up toward her thighs and drives them apart. He'd give many things in exchange for a chance to please her. He thinks, or at least, wants to believe that he could make Regina feel things, feel  _really good_  things. His mouth could be buried between those thighs, tasting and teasing and satisfying her. The things he wants to do to her with his tongue are enough to make Hugh Hefner blush. It's a wonder his face isn't aflush with an embarrassing rosy hue for thinking such depraved things.

But who can be conscientious when faced with her gorgeous legs?

Christ, he's in too deep.

Deep enough that Regina has to clear her throat to call his attention back to her. When he tips his head upwards to look at her, he finds that she's looking so guileless and unguarded at him, which initiates the guilt he should've felt a moment ago. She has a smile on her face, that could only be described as wistful, and it makes him a pinch hopeful, and if not, also, a bit more nervous. But her features aren't devoid of the same wonder that he's sure his also carry. They're trying to convey to one another that they're unsure of what to do next, caught in some in between.

She's the first to say something, in a barely audible whisper, "Can I have my foot back please?"

Her smile gets wider, while his eyes do and he scrambles to release her foot, mumbling sloppy and stupid apologies.

As Robin stands, he takes a selfish minute to really look at Regina, who's bathed in the serenity of the moonlight and looks like a poetic picture.

She clears her throat. "Really glad you're here," she whispers almost coquettishly between them, sending every bit of electrified want that's running through him straight to his cock.

"It would've definitely made my neighbor's night very interesting," she adds, moving closer to him.

_Fucking wank fuck shit_ , he cannot do this. He wants her, Christ God, he wants her more than anything right now. She's so beautiful and sexy and he's lost all will to think of anything but that. He just wants to watch her beauty revel in the moonlight, and he could just about do that all night.

He's still dreadfully quiet, stuck in his musings, so she just keeps talking to fill up the silence. Perhaps, because she fears, just as he does, what the silence could lead to. "It's a good thing you're here, huh?" she says with a breathy laugh.

Robin finally finds his voice, choking out, "Very good." He swallows. "Jolly good. Good good good."

Regina hums in agreement, stepping forward, making her close enough that he can touch her. She turns, bearing her back to him and requesting for him to undo the laces on her corset.

"I don't suppose you'd ask them to do this part," he queries, reaching for the black strings and fumbling with them, unable to mask the nervousness he feels in his fingers.

Regina laughs softly. "Well, of course I would. That's the whole reason I need help."

Right, of course, yes. Because, that's exactly what he's doing here. He's just supposed to undo the laces for her so that she can wriggle her way out. That's all he's meant to be doing. It's not like he's going to see her naked. Maybe a good chunk of her back, but nothing more than that. This is totally natural, totally something friends would do for each other. And that's what they are. Friends. Just. Friends.

Robin relaxes a little, enough to untie the binding strings of the corset, giving Regina the newfound freedom to breathe, which she takes full advantage of. She takes in a huge breath, probably the first real one she's had for the whole evening.

"Sweet freedom," she murmurs jokingly, as she turns back to Robin. She's holding the black bejeweled bodice tightly to her chest to avoid anything spilling out and revealing. Her head tips sideways with a fragile smile, one that he knows can easily break. "Thank you," she utters softly. "I appreciate your help."

"S'not a problem," he answers thickly, his throat drier than the desert they live in.

"Do you mind turning around for a sec, so I can get this off and throw on a tee?"

Robin nods, probably more than he needs to, and turns about face when he's realized it, muttering a  _sorry_.

He can hear her bodice hit the floor and the creak of the closet door fill up the room, reminding Robin that he's mere feet away from a beautiful and mostly naked woman. A woman that he's kissed, fucked over, become friends with again, and now wants to kiss more than anything. The old Robin, the one that was a total and complete cad, would turn around and take a peek, but without so much as a second thought, Robin knows that he wouldn't dare turn around.

It strikes him how much he's changed, making him face the idea that he might just be growing up. He's finally taken responsibility, he's gotten a job, he's stopped making horrible decisions—okay, not completely, but well enough—and he's actually doing well for himself. He takes a moment to be a little proud of himself for it.

Blanchard Orchard Elementary School might just be the best thing that's ever happened to him.

Well, and maybe, something else.

"Alright, all done," Regina announces, giving him permission to turn around.

He finds her in a brown sweatshirt and burgundy leggings and pulling the crunchy mop on the side of her head into a ponytail. She looks smaller, more delicate now, but equally as stunning and gorgeous.

He trots back to her carefully. He's waiting for her to say something, assuming that it'll be an excuse to kick him out. But, she actually says nothing and simply watches as they pull together like magnets.

Robin decides to speak, hoping a joke will calm his nerves and break the tension. "Now, I feel a tad overdressed."

Regina cracks a smile, which doesn't help at all. "I can help you out of that. Quid pro quo and all," she teases.

Also, not helping.

Robin stammers, trying to get some answer out, but no words can justify the absolute chaos that's going on in his mind. Regina can see what's happening, can see that he's afraid, but desperate, to say yes, and knows that he needs to say no.

She steps toward him. Then, again. And again. And she keeps moving until they're finally face to face once more. He's still stuttering despite the fact that he feels like the bloody wind's been knocked out of him. Regina reaches out for him, placing her palms against the armour, and locking their eyes.

They both know what this means. It's crossing a threshold; it's stepping over a boundary with no plan to cross back over. Their eyes are solid on one another's and neither makes a move to indicate their stance on the matter.

"May I?" she finally asks, gesturing to the armour.

All Robin can do is nod… and then, wait.

They just watch each other, at first, without a single word. His chest begins to feel heavier and he's grateful the armour is coming off. But that doesn't cure the warm, jittery sensation beating wildly against the lining of his stomach. And the jitters only rage harder when his eyes fall to her lips and her palms reach up and rest on his chest. He tries to breath steadily as she slides them over until they reach his scarf, which covers the top of his outfit. She tugs on it gently and pulls it away, revealing the shoulder armour and an off-white tunic peeking out from underneath. Her fingers intertwine with the threads of his tunic and she yanks carefully on them until they begin to unravel, revealing more of him. Even then, the pressure on his chest sticks to him like glue, restricting his airway to the point of nearly choking him.

Her fingers finally skitter over to the buckles of the armour, but they stop short and Regina's face tips upward to look at him. Her eyes have a touch of warning in them, telling him that she's about to do the deed, that there isn't any turning back. It actually helps some of his worries slip away because it reminds him that her thought process is most likely parallel to his. So, he gives her a tiny nod and allows her to proceed, undoing the first buckle—agonizingly slow, he might add, but nevertheless undoes it. It helps relieve some of the pressure weighing him down, and even moreso with the second, but doesn't purge it entirely.

When the final buckle snaps open, the armor slips from his shoulders and begins to fall away. Regina's hands lift to the shoulder pads and she pushes them off of Robin's shoulders until they both hear them thud to the floor. Regina winces slightly at the noise, most likely because the silence has been pretty deafening between them. His reflexes get the better of him and he raises a hand to push back a stray hair behind her ear. It's a mistake because the minute he does it, he's back to thinking about kissing her. She must be thinking the same because her breathing has noticeably quickened.

The hand he didn't even notice was resting on her hips, tightens just so, and he finds himself pulling her infinitesimally closer. She willingly lets his pull guide her closer and closer to him. He should stop, they both should stop, but he doesn't want to. He's weak. He's a pathetically weak and impotent tosser, who just wants to kiss the woman he fancies. But, it isn't that simple and he knows it. He can't just think about what he wants, he's better than that, he wants to be better than that  _for her_. She's asked that they be friends, and only that, and he has to respect that and stop being so fucking… like his old self.

He's about to suggest that they break away, when she starts muttering something. He doesn't quite understand her, partially because he's distracted, and partially because she's speaking so quietly.

He can barely croak out a  _huh_  to ask her to repeat herself.

They're still close, too close, so so close. It wouldn't take much now for him to lean in and take those lips b— _focus Robin, you daft git_.

Regina's eyes skim what's left of his outfit, which are his long tunic and the tights. She sighs, "You probably want to get out of this, too, huh?"

Robin swallows and almost chokes. That would essentially leave him naked. And that could lead to... well, nothing good.

"Maybe, we should leave that," he says dryly.

But Regina shakes her head, having none of it. "Don't be ridiculous, Robin, I have plenty of oversized shirts in my closet for you to use."

"And here I was hoping you'd let me borrow one of your skin tight blouses to wear," he jokes with a tiny smirk feeling himself slip back into the flirty Robin that he likes to be around Regina. That Robin isn't a disaster like he is just now.

Regina bites down on her lip, suppressing the smile he knows she's trying hard not to make. But her eyebrow ticks upward and she doesn't resist the urge to sass him, because she answers with, "I mean we can always arrange that, I guess, but if you stretch out any of my shirts, I'll be forced to kick your ass."

Robin chuckles, while his hand reflexively squeezes her hip. Regina flinches slightly at the touch, causing him to quickly regret it, but she recovers in the same instance, and he proceeds with his response. "Yes, well I would like to avoid that at all costs so maybe we should forgo that bit."

Regina laughs hollowly and squares off with him. "Probably for the best," she tells him, "but, I'm serious, I have plenty of shirts you can use."

"You've been collecting from all your gentleman callers?" he teases her, peeking over at her closet as if he could see anything.

She whaps his shoulder lightly and rolls her eyes. "Jealous?"

"Very," he answers without missing a beat.

"Well, in that case, I probably won't mention that it is quite possible to go to shops and buy t-shirts that are several sizes too big for you."

Robin shrugs. "Probably best to let the little green monster fester."

Regina hums and skirts her fingers around the hem of his tunic. "What's it gonna be, Locksley?"

Robin can nearly feel a brick in his throat. He feels restricted and bound tighter than he's ever felt before. It feels like he's been singing the same tune for ages but he can't stop the way he feels for Regina, because it's  _deep_  and  _passionate_  and everything in between. Why shouldn't he just say fuck it and tell her that he's not over it and that he can joke all he wants, but, at the end of the day, all he wants to do is kiss her and kiss her and kiss her? He wants to tell her she's beautiful, especially in a moment like now when they're open and exposed in front of one another. He wants her to feel wanted and moved.

But he has to be stronger than that.

Robin tells himself to sack up and stop playing these games. He needs to get out of her bedroom, out of her apartment, so that he can get out of her way and let her figure her shit out and then let her decide what their future entails.

He glances downward, then returns his gaze to hers and shakes his head. "I can drive back in this, Regina, I'll be fine."

Regina purses her lips, then, looking a little put off by the statement. He watches as she tries to undo it, and dismisses it with a shake of her head, but Robin's already caught it in all of its miserable glory.

"What is it?"

Regina shakes her head again. "It's nothing."

But oh no, no. She isn't getting away with it that easily. "Regina, what is it?"

She begins to hesitantly retreat from his touch. "It's silly. Don't worry about it."

"I mean, if you want me to wear your shirt, I will," he jests playfully, hoping to lighten the mood and erase whatever newfound anxiety just arose for her.

It pays off because she laughs, but it's still contrived and disingenuous. "I was just going to ask if you'd maybe want to stay and watch a scary movie or something."

Oh. Well, then. Robin can't even be bothered to prevent his stupid smile at her idea. "Why didn't you just say so? In need of someone to protect you?"

Regina rolls her eyes. "Don't make me change my mind."

"How could a man deny taking off his clothes and watching scary films with a beautiful lady?"

She scoffs, trying her damned hardest to feign annoyance. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you're looking forward to the prospect of spending more time with me," he ribs with her and taps her on the nose.

"I ought to throw you out of my apartment in that ugly tunic."

He's chuckling again, but he takes it as an opportunity to keep flirting.

"Or," he sings as he brings both hands down to her hips and begins steering her toward the closet, "You can get me that shirt after all and we'll curl up on the sofa and watch a film, because that's my best shot at holding hands with you in the popcorn bowl."

Regina bites down hard on her lip and eyes him suspiciously. "I'll see your hand-holding popcorn bowl and raise you no hand-holding and a free t-shirt."

Robin lets out a booming laugh and squeezes her hips again. "I'll take that bet. Could we compromise on the cuddling bit, yeah?"

Regina gives him a wry smile and a tips her brows up toward her hairline. "Don't push your luck," she warns him.

He grins and decides there's nothing left to do but lift his arms slowly and hesitantly put them in the air, giving Regina permission to take this tunic off. She pauses just for a second to gather herself. Her eyes flutter closed serenely and she takes a deep breath, and when she reopens them, they lock instantly with his. A spell of deep concentration has befallen them and he feels that electric surge of panic ricochet through him again.

She's equally as nervous again, he can tell, because her hands shake aggressively when they grip the bottom of the eggshell garment harder and she pulls on it. His hands move over to cover hers. They smooth over her soft skin gently before closing in on them and lacing his fingers with hers. He tries to keep his own hands firm and unshaken as he guides them upwards, revealing a trail of bare skin as the garment rises higher up on his body. A lump forms in his throat as he reminds himself that she's about to see him shirtless—hell, she's about to see him essentially naked. His head is screaming, his chest is aching, but every fiber of his being is alive and electrified. He craves her touch, her caress, the whole burning flame that is kindling between them. Her eyes fall on his chest, which is toned but not terribly so, but hopefully the mix of moonlight and darkness help contour in all the right places, covering up the tiny gut he has, which is most likely a result of his excessive drinking habits. But he believes he still looks rather fit, especially when his well-built arms fall back to his side.

He watches her study his chest intently, tracing every line in his torso with her eyes. Her mouth is shaped in an odd sort of way, that could only be described as muted pleasure. It's no longer the harsh scowl she often wears, and instead, it's been traded for the delicate smile that makes her look suddenly much younger and more vulnerable. He can feel his heart racing even faster as he just admires her beauty radiating in the moonlight that is still streaming inward and washing her in light.

Fucking Christ, she's an absolute piece of art and  _he_  is an absolute disaster.

While he's memorizing every piece of her that he can, her hands are stretching out anxiously and tentatively, but, as they near his chest she stops altogether and draws her hand back, balling it into a fist. But he's a man so desperate for her touch that he releases her hips and reaches for her tiny hands. He kneads them tenderly until they spread open beneath his grasp and then slowly places them onto each side of his chest. He doesn't move his hands from hers, and instead, re-laces their fingers to steer them across his chest and torso. He moves them slow and methodically, as if they are painting a canvas.

He can't stop thinking about kissing her, for no other reason than he wants to. He  _really, really_ wants to. They can cover it up and pretend that they only want to be friends, but the truth is there and he can see it easily in her eyes as they curiously study his. His lips tingle, desperate to feel her mouth on his. That lingering hunger he's had since mid September returns with a vengeance and nags at him to lean down and satiate it. But he has to be strong and remember what he's promised.

But his hands betray him and pull Regina's, which are finally warming up after incubating under his warm touch, to the center of his chest. He lifts and cups them between both of his hands and brings them to his lips, pressing a tiny, sweet kiss to them. His lips linger before he pulls away. He's taking his sweet time to delay the inevitable. His stomach is churning vehemently and his airway is practically closed. Every nerve ending, every cell in his body, is tingling and vibrating and making him violently anxious, but he doesn't even bother trying to put a stop to it.

His hands take hers, once his lips graciously retreat, and place them with painstakingly slow speed around the back of his neck. He removes his hands, finally, from hers at the same speed and waits to see if she moves her hands or decides to do something else. But, his main focus is on her eyes, which are panicked and nervous and shy and apprehensive and just a mix of every emotion he feels and doesn't want to. He doesn't want either of them feeling doubtful or uneasy about this. He knows what he wants and she—or at least he believes—knows what she wants. Why should they hold off? Why should they put away what will make them happy?

And yet, he still won't kiss her, simply because she's asked that of him. But for fuck's sake he cannot think of anything in the world other than kissing her.

"Um," she clears her throat, "I think you should handle the tights portion."

"Right," he murmurs, looking down, "wouldn't want you putting a run in them."

She laughs  _hard_  and he once again craves to kiss at that beautiful smile again and again and again.

He will not disrespect her wishes, though. He will not take advantage or push her. He wants her to want him of her own volition. But, he's tempting fate by the way he's looped her arms around him and one of his palms has found a home in the small of her back, while the other has reached for her face, his thumb softly caressing her cheek.

He thinks she moves in closer. Her arms have definitely tightened around his neck and he can feel a slight pull downward. His eyes continue to scan for hints on where this is going. There's a newfound hint of contriteness, like she's almost apologizing for the state they're in, even though it's entirely his fault. But, she's definitely pulling him closer now, because he can feel the light wash of her breath across his cheek and their lips are certainly almost touching. He has to remind himself that he can't kiss her, he cannot be the one to kiss her. But, she's so close and everything feels right and all he has to do is close the gap.

He thinks he should say something, maybe opt out so she doesn't have to, because, after all, that is mildly embarrassing. But, Robin is unable to get a word in edgewise because the moment he opens his mouth to speak, Regina is pulling herself upwards, licking her lips and tilting her head, then covering his mouth with hers, leaving those words to dissolve into the space between them. Robin can hear the guttural moan echoing out of the hollow of her throat, as their lips meet passionately, and he pulls her tighter to him. She melts into him easily, pressing their bodies as tightly together as possible.

He breathes hard through his nostrils, expelling all the air he'd trapped in his lungs. But his mouth steadily opens further with each kiss tangling his cotton candy scented breath with the taste of the chocolate chip cookie she must have swiped at some point during the carnival. But when his mouth is finally open wide enough, he feels her tongue sweep across his bottom lip then enter, seeking out his and tangling fervidly with it, the taste of chocolate becoming even sweeter as they collide.

Robin feels them shift suddenly. Regina is pushing—no, just guiding—him gently backwards, inching them away from the closet and back toward the center of the room. He tries not to let his mind anticipate that they're headed to the bed, but he is a man after all—and a pathetically weak one at that. So, he lets her lead, waltzing them backwards, mouths still meeting headily, desperate and sloppy and warm.

Christ in Heaven, he wants her, wants more of her, wants all of her. He wants to take the blasted t-shirt and leggings she's just put on and toss them away, baring all of her for him. He wants to kiss every inch of her and have her moaning and writhing beneath his touch. His hands move subconsciously at the idea, travelling toward her waist and slipping beneath the cotton fabric. They skate delicately along her curves, gunning aimlessly for her breasts, but he takes his time, as best his patience and libido will allow for.

Regina is still leading him backwards but her hands have also begun to traverse the expanse of his chest and torso, touching every muscle and every trough between them. Her nails begin to rake over his skin, pressing gently enough that it doesn't leave a mark but hard enough that it makes him hungrier for more.

Robin can see where this is going from a mile off. He's nearly rock hard at this point and her lips are just as ravenous as they were at the start. And if those aren't any indication, then her finally getting him to the bed and pushing him down lightly might just be answer enough. They part just long enough for him to fall backward and scramble into a seated position, so that she can straddle his lap. He watches as she looks down for a split second and meticulously lines herself up to be placed right on top of the bulge in his tights. They both moan aloud as she settles and starts an agonizingly slow and lazy rhythm.

The center of her leggings are warm and it occurs to him just how thin the fabrics separating them are. He feels that hungry desire burn brighter in the depths of his abdomen. He wants to feel how warm and wet she is, wants to bury his cock deep inside of her, wants to feel her come around him again and again and again.

His self-restraint is practically nonexistent at this point because his hands have certainly gone to taking off her bra beneath the t-shirt and are groping blindly at her breasts. They're warm, soft and supple and just as he'd imagined—not that he's been imagining them—and he doesn't shy away from grabbing them. He wishes the shirt would simply disappear to give him more access and his hands a little more freedom to roam in general. But, he doesn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he takes this blessing as is and revels in the sound of her breath hitching harshly when he kneads and thumbs her nipples.

Her hips have picked up in rhythm, driving her circles just a bit sharper and quicker, which only makes him needier. His tights need to come off before he's come off.

This is  _bad_. What he really needs is to think more clearly. Somewhere his super-ego is crying out a list of all the things he should be doing rather than touching all over Regina's breasts and allowing her to rub up against him the way she is. He needs to ask what is happening, to assure that what is happening is okay and to figure out what the bloody hell this all means.

"Christ Regina," he breathes into the nape of her neck, as he finally braves abandoning her lips for more skin.

It doesn't help that she answers with a soft, breathy  _Robin_ , with her nails digging hard into his scalp and pressing him harder into the base of her throat. He's a right bastard for not having a stronger will to break away and apply some reasoning to this heavy petting. He shouldn't be kissing her neck, shouldn't be inching up her t-shirt with his elbows to give him more room, shouldn't be jerking his own hips now and again to meet with hers. And he certainly should not be thinking about having sex with her. He can't, one hundred percent cannot, have sex with Regina Mills.

They'd just agreed to be friends—what? Two weeks ago? And they were doing well with that. He's been bringing her coffee and they've been chatting and it's been nice, easy, simple. But, this. This is anything but that. This is complicated and messy and bound for trouble.

He wants to ask what it is exactly that she wants. He doesn't want to be pushy, though. Hell, what he really wants is to just keep kissing her and fondling her, but that's ill-advised. He just needs to say something. Just needs to remove his lips from the hollow of her throat and speak.

_C'mon you tosspot_ , he curses himself quietly,  _just speak_.

But, he resolves himself to speak—or, at least, that's what he's going to tell himself, anyway—just as a new noise disrupts the hot and heavy mood they've set. Robin finally does tear himself away in favor of glancing over at Regina's nightstand, where her phone is lighting up and playing a twinkly little tune.

Regina eyes follow suit and gaze over at the table. He watches out of the corner of his eye as she freezes and goes rigid against him.

Ah, so that's it.

Robin faces Regina again and studies her, but she keeps her eyes glued to the table. He pauses, waiting to see if she'll look at him or say something. But when she doesn't, he clears his throat and gives her thighs a gentle squeeze.

"That about your mum?" he asks, rubbing his thumbs up and down her thighs and tilting his head in hopes that she'll look at him.

He can visibly see Regina swallow. Her eyes betray her, too, glistening in the mix of the faded moonlight that barely reaches her bed and the sliver of light from the hall. Regina grumbles something and begins to wipe furiously at her face, so much so, he fears she might scratch herself. He releases her thighs to reach for her hands, but it's a mistake because she uses it as an opportunity to get away from him. She backs off of his lap and stands, turning her back toward him.

He's an asshole. He could tell something was bothering her earlier once, and again, he let his feelings take precedence.

"Hey," he whispers, as he stands.

He walks over to her and gingerly places his hands on her shoulders, but she pushes him off the second he touches her and steps forward.

"Regina, c'mon," he says a little more strongly and fills in the newfound gap between them. He doesn't touch her though, not yet.

"You should go," she mutters bitterly and crosses her arms across her chest.

"Like hell," he scoffs, still not reaching for her. "I was really looking forward to some scary movies."

She doesn't laugh, actually doesn't say anything at all. He thinks now is the time, so he cautiously takes a final step toward her and extends his arms outward, looping them around her midsection and pulling her backward to fall against his chest. She stands there stiffly in his embrace, refusing to concede to the gesture. But he remains persistent anyway and holds onto her tighter, refusing to let her go.

"Talk to me, m'love," he whispers softly against her, then presses a kiss to her shoulder. "What happened?"

"If I knew, don't you think she wouldn't be calling," she snaps at him and he knows she doesn't mean it.

Robin just answers by hugging her a little tighter to him. He doesn't really know what to say. He fears the worst for her. He wishes he could shield her from all of this, wishes the bullshit with her mum didn't plague her so much. He just wants to help her, but now he just feels like a helpless, useless git.

"Tell me what you need," is all he can think to say.

Her answer takes him by surprise, maybe because it was so sudden, or maybe because it was unexpected, but either way, it shocks him when Regina turns in his hold, fists his shirt and crashes their lips together vigorously. Robin stumbles back just slightly at the level of force but nevertheless kisses her back. It's hotter and headier and nothing like before. There's no trepidation, no level of restraint this time. It's just hot and heavy lip (and tongue) action.

Her lips are strong and bruising and relentless as she tastes him like a woman famished and Robin is slave to her kiss, letting her have her way. He staggers backwards haphazardly, while she leads them back toward the bed, following her lead blindly as she pushes, with their lips still meeting earnestly.

He needs to put a stop to this immediately because he knows this should not be happening whatsoever. Regina is hurting  _visibly_  and he knows that whatever this is isn't going to help at all. But even as he tries to pull away, she just counters with stronger and more needier kisses.

Robin can feel his calves collide with the edge of the bed, sending him backward with an  _oof!_  As he lands. He watches as Regina falls with him and then crawls the rest of the way until their faces are level again. She pauses for a brief second and he can see the anguish in her features, the pain radiating from her. Robin can nearly sense her heartbreak by just studying the grief stricken look she wears, but then he can taste it in her kisses, which are now tainted with the salty taste of the tears that have welled from her eyes. She's kissing him so that he can't see her, but he can still feel them pelt his face as they dribble away from her eyes.

Robin tries to speak as she peppers him with kisses, but Regina is refusing to listen and chooses to concentrate very intently on kissing him. Her breathing is ragged and irregular and wet and Robin feels sort of at a loss. He's never had this happen before. Sure, he's seen women cry, he's even had some cry after they'd had sex, for reasons he hopes have nothing to do with his performance, but he's never experienced anything like this. She's deflecting, avoiding the real issue at hand, and not that he isn't grateful for all the kissing and, well, other bits, but he knows that this isn't what she needs. She needs someone to hold her and tell her it's going to be okay. She needs a friend.

Regina is moving, lifting herself away from him. He watches as she scrambles to take off her shirt and meanwhile mask her tear-stained face. Robin, out of reflex, rapidly scrunches his eyes closed. It's not that he doesn't want to see Regina's breasts—of course, he does—but not like this. He reaches out blindly, which in hindsight isn't his most brilliant of plans, and tries to grab the t-shirt to pull it back down. But he only makes contact with her skin, forcing him to open his eyes.

Her tits are as glorious as he'd believed when he was feeling them up just earlier. They're small, but not too much so, and rounded just enough that it nearly makes his mouth water. Had the circumstances been different, he would've immediately sat up and taken one  _in his mouth_ , but now is not the time. He manages to tear himself away from her breasts, to pull her shirt back down and glance up at her face. She's pointedly not looking at him and her face is still full of steadfast concentration.

She realizes she isn't going to succeed by distracting him with her breasts, even though she does try to reach for his hands and prompt him to cop a feel. But, he's resilient and evades her hands, reaching for her elbows and attempting to still her. Regina doesn't yield, though, and, instead, tries to lean in for more kisses, but Robin holds tightly to her elbows, causing her to remain stationary.

In addition, he speaks her name clearly and resolutely, accenting each syllable harshly.

He can tell she's trying not to listen, so he repeats himself. "Regina," he states even more harshly this time.

Regina falters the second time and finally stops fighting him. Her eyes flutter closed and she lets out a shaky, albeit loud, breath. He answers by moving his hands to hers and giving them a firm squeeze. He tugs them gently forward, pulling her along with it. She makes an awkward descent down to him, but eventually falls to his chest. Upon impact, she breaks down, her body suddenly wracking with silent sobs. Robin smoothes a hand up and down her spine and coos softly, trying to calm her, even though he knows that she just needs to get a good cry out. So he clings tightly to her and lets her cry her heart out. He doesn't speak aside from the tender murmurs that tell her she's going to be okay and that he's here.

His heart is so broken for her that he can't help but tear up a little himself. He wishes with all his heart he could ease her pain but he knows there's no easy way to dismiss the deep-seated pain caused by a parent. He certainly has his own irreparable scars from his parents. If there was an undo button, he would definitely have used it by now. But alas, such a thing does not exist quite yet, so they still have to suffer as a result. He feels a shred of hatred for a woman he doesn't even know because she's caused Regina this insurmountable level of agony that he cannot soothe or fix. And he just hates her for it.

He almost thinks that the woman deserves the cruel and vicious fate she was given. Serves her right for being a cold and callous bitch to the point that her daughter is still in bits many years after their estrangement. But the better and far more considerate part of him understands that everyone, even the most evil souls in this world, deserve to be treated with kindness and civility, especially when they don't believe that themselves. Despite growing up in a home that didn't exactly enforce that idea, somewhere along the way, he'd adopted the notion and it's stuck with him ever since.

Sometimes, he just needs to be reminded.

Regina's tears eventually subside, or at least, have calm enough that her body is finally still. Nevertheless, Robin presses a kiss into her hair and continues to stroke her back, still murmuring his reassurances.

Regina coughs, choking slightly on her tears, but manages to croak out, "I never got to say goodbye."

Robin mutters an  _I know_ , but Regina shakes her head and says, "To my dad. I never said goodbye to my dad when he died. I wasn't home when he—when it happened and I feel so guilty and that's why I didn't go because she treated me so horribly. Why should she be worthy of my goodbyes when I didn't even get to say goodbye to the one person who's truly loved me? But now, I feel all this guilt about not going and—"

She isn't able to finish her sentence because her tears overcome her. Robin shushes softly and reminds her, "Darling, the only reason you're feeling guilty is because you didn't take the chance and now you're telling yourself you're terrible because you can, because you want to fault yourself for something that is entirely not your fault. If you felt, leading up to this moment, that you didn't want to see your mum, and you felt justified with that decision, then you are perfectly vindicated."

"But what if I made a mistake?" she laments, burying her face into his torso.

Robin shakes his head. "Everyone makes mistakes but there's no use in blaming yourself or hurting yourself over something you can't take back."

"Then, what are you supposed to do?"

"Learn," he answers without missing a beat. "You learn from them. It's why we make them in the first place."

"Well, I've kind of run out of parents to apply this lesson to so I might be shit out of luck on this one," she grumbles against his skin, making him laugh aloud and trying to ignore the tingly feeling he gets with her lips there.

"Perhaps, it's a sign to not shut out everyone else you love or care about," he suggests, giving the crown of her head another kiss.

Regina's head snaps upward and looks intently at him. She probably thinks the statement is pointedly about him, which it isn't, but now that it's out there, he isn't going to just deny it. He gives her a wry smile and she goes about biting that lip he sort of wishes he was still kissing. She must be thinking the same because she wriggles upward until they're face-to-face again.

But she doesn't kiss him. Instead, she tips her head sideways and smirks, "You're right. Maybe I should give Mal a call."

Robin snorts a laugh. "That your lover?"

Regina purses her lips and glances back toward her phone. "No," she says. "Although, she  _is_  gay."

"Oh?" he asks, as she rests her head back on his chest.

"Mm," she muses with a nod.

He can tell she feels comfortable talking about the woman with the way she melts a little more into him. She's relaxing. Her palm rests steadily on his bare chest, while her thumb traces back and forth lightly. He wants to keep her this way so he presses the conversation on, "Were you two close?"

Regina shakes her head just so. "Not when we first met, no. She took riding lessons from my father, so we saw a lot of each other, but she was three years ahead of me at school and I'm pretty sure she thought I was just an annoying brat. But then, the summer before my freshman year, everything sort of changed. We would ride together sometimes, or just hang out in the ring after dark. She became like my mentor, my confidante."

Robin absentmindedly starts stroking her hair and hums along to her tale.

"Before I knew it, we were becoming pretty good friends. But, we didn't really become friends until the day she came out to me."

" _Friends_ , huh?" Robin interjects jokingly.

Regina just ignores him, but he's fairly certain he sees her roll her eyes and crack a smile. "We were hanging out at this tree that we used to sit under—one of the only ones on the property—and she told me that she wasn't going to take riding lessons anymore. And when I asked her why, she just… blurted it out."

"How did you respond?" he queries with a chuckle.

"Exactly as any stupid, naïve, and ignorant person would. I kinda just stared at her and processed and when I was able to swallow it enough, I told her that it was amazing and that I'd never met a gay person before, to which she informed me that I absolutely had, I just didn't know it.  _That_  blew my mind," she starts laughing and Robin warms to the sound.

Mission accomplished.

"Anyway," Regina continues, "so she told me that she couldn't take lessons anymore because her mother was throwing her out for being gay. And me, being the naïve, little princess that I was, ran to Daddy and threw an absolute fit. Mal tried to dismiss it but my father was having none of it. Much to my mother's dismay, although she tried to hide it, Mal ended up living with us until she got into Grand Canyon University. But even then, she wasn't far and I visited a good bit. She even took me to a party once when I was in eleventh grade.

"God," she sighs, "my mother would roll over in her metaphorical grave if she ever found out."

Robin winces at the mention of her mother. So close.

Regina pauses, licks her lips and sighs again. "Or maybe not so metaphorical anymore."

"I know," he whispers quietly, still stroking through her locks.

They lay there quietly for just a moment, not saying a word. He just combs his fingers through her hair and feels the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his.

But after a moment, "I'm sorry," is what she answers.

Robin is confused, knitting his brows together and tipping his chin to glance down at her the best he can. "For what?" he asks.

"For earlier—trying to jump your bones and all."

"Ah," Robin says with a sharp intake. "Right. That. You were upset. It's okay."

"It's not," she rebuts.

He muses for a brief second, then says, "You remember what I said to you when we went for coffee?"

Regina shrugs. "We said a lot of things, but I'm assuming you're referring to the regret part?"

Robin nods affirmatively. "I am. And do you?"

"No," she confesses quietly into his chest.

Robin only hums in response, unsure really of what to say, but Regina takes his line, instead. She lifts herself once more and wriggles until their noses are aligned again, while studying his eyes tacitly. Her eyes are back to being hesitant and worried and he's flooded with more concern, but his heart betrays him with hope, begging for her soft kisses once more.

He watches her delicate, rosy lips open, then close before she says anything at all. And he watches as she gathers her nerve, licks her lips and opens her mouth again. "Don't take this the wrong way," she whispers, though, he can feel the gentle tickle of her breath on his face, "but you're one of the better things that's going on in my life. And I am…" she pauses, searching for the word, "scared to death I'm going to fuck this up."

Robin can feel that disgustingly stupid grin that he always does mold onto his lips. But how could he possibly help it?

"You shouldn't worry about that," he chuckles. "We're so passed fucking this up, I think the only thing we can do is just sit back and watch this shitshow unfold."

Regina tries to stifle her snicker, biting down on her bottom lip, which she continues to chew on long after she's stopped laughing. She's back to studying him, her swollen, heavy lidded eyes dancing back and forth, curiously analyzing and making him feel as naked as the day he was born. He wants to know what she's thinking, would almost love to be inside her head. He wonders if she's looking to see if he'll make a move. Should he make a move? He's unsure, now that they're in this awkward limbo state. Did her apology mean that she didn't want to kiss him anymore or did it simply mean that she didn't want to kiss him again, yet?

His mind circles around with these questions, deriving several possible answers each time they rotate through. But this isn't helping, he's a sodding nervous wreck and with each passing idea, he only grows more nervous.

Maybe, he should change the subject.

He decides it's the best course of action, so he clears his throat and directs his attention to her pristine, white ceiling. "You've got a nice apartment complex, you know?"

He can see Regina frown out of the corner of his eye and he wonders if it's because of the subject change or her apartment building itself. But she shrugs against him, saying, "Eh, it's okay."

Robin ignores her and continues, "Any vacancies you know of? I'm actually in the market for a new one."

That catches her attention. "Wait, what?" she exclaims, sitting up a little and nearly crushing his ribs in the process. "You're being kicked out of your apartment?"

Robin shakes his head vehemently. "No, no," he denies quickly, "It's just my roommate, John, and his girlfriend," he pauses to smirk because, at heart, he's still nine, apparently, "are expecting. And no offense to the parents to be, but I'm not particularly looking to be a manny. Besides, they're gonna need my room for a nursery eventually and, well, if three's a crowd I don't wanna know what the bloody hell four is."

Regina snorts softly at that. He notices her eyes are closed serenely, now that she's lying back down, and he worries that he's kept her up past her bedtime. But her voice is not drenched with sleep quite yet, so he thinks he might be in the clear just a little bit longer. "There actually is an apartment that's about to go up for lease on the third floor. I could maybe call and put a good word in for you."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course I would."

Robin is touched, truly. He kisses the top of her head before whispering, "I would really appreciate that. Thank you." Then his arms lift and engulf her in an awkward embrace, hugging her tightly to his chest.

Robin buries his nose in her hair, as he holds onto her, enjoying the sweet scent of her apple shampoo filling up his nostrils. His eyes flutter shut slowly and his breathing levels out. He thinks that to any outsider, this may be weird, like if her walls had eyes, they would  _oooh_ and  _ahhh_  in wonder and confusion at Robin and Regina's relationship. He feels like they've barely had the time to get to know each other, and yet, he feels as though he's never been closer to another human being in his life. It makes them complex, a little unconventional, but overall, complex and profound and he craves more of it. But, he wonders if it's all moving a little quickly, or if maybe, he's pushing too hard?

He sighs heavily into her hair, unintentionally making his internal frustrations known.

"What's wrong?" Regina follows concernedly.

Robin decides to be honest because why not at this point? "D'you think they'd make it?" he asks, and when Regina replies asking who he's talking about, he references Kathryn's comment she made earlier, "Robin Hood and the Evil Queen? Do you think they'd make it as a pair?"

Regina snorts a laugh. "I don't know," she answers pensively with a hint of dreaminess that seems to weigh on him as well. "They'd make an interesting couple, that's for sure. He'd have to be able to handle her temper and she'd have to accept that he's a thief… but anything's possible I guess." She shrugs against him.

"I'd like to believe they would," he says. "Just because she's broken and he's a mess, doesn't mean they couldn't bring out the best in one another. Call me hopeful, but I think they'd turn out to be one hell of a strong and dynamic couple."

"Yeah," is all Regina answers.

Robin has no idea if she caught on that he wasn't particularly referring to the fairytale characters— well, he was, but only metaphorically. He chooses not to push the issue, though, deciding that it's best to just let the chips fall where they may.

"So what's it gonna be, Your Majesty?" he changes the subject. "You wanna watch a movie or have I kept you past your bedtime?"

Regina sighs wistfully, "I owe you a movie, but I doubt I'll be awake for most of it."

"That's okay."

"Okay," she croons. He can feel her hesitate getting up. She lingers for a second, but long enough that he knows it's reluctance. Or, maybe, he's just projecting his own reluctance on her and she senses that.

But there's only the flicker before she's shimmying and attempting to stand up. As she goes, she offers out her hands to Robin to help him up, too. He takes them and lets her pull him like a magnet until they're both standing face-to-face and in  _very_  close proximity to one another.

"I should probably get you that shirt," she says quietly and turns toward her closet.

But he grabs her arm and tugs her lightly back to him. He has to make sure that she's going to be okay first. "You alright?" he asks with every bit of concern he has bleeding out of him.

Regina gives him a small smile and nods. He can tell it's forced and a little strained but he thinks her answer is still genuine.

"I will be," she whispers and stands on her tip toes, giving him a small peck, "it'll take some time, but I will be. I'll call Mal in the morning and do what I need to—"

"And I'll be by your side whenever you need me," he interjects.

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "I know you will and I appreciate that, Robin. Really."

"Anything for you."

Regina doesn't answer and goes about fishing around in her closet to find a t-shirt for him. When she emerges, she asks, "So, you'll stay? Maybe help me pass out candy tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course." He nods in compliance, trying to ignore the butterflies that kick up a flutter in his belly.

Regina extends the shirt to him. "You can sleep on the couch…" she instructs, glancing past him at the bed awkwardly. He feels an urge to reach for her, to soothe her worries about what transpired a few moments ago, but he refrains and listens as she closes the gap between them even further, licks her lips and presses on talking, "and I don't just mean tonight— anytime you need to until you find an apartment."

It means a lot, even though he's sure he'll probably refuse to take her offer because he doesn't want to put her out or make her uncomfortable. But the offer itself touches him and he tells her so by giving her a modest  _thank you_. His hands reach for her without thinking, reaching out to offer a hug, which she enters willingly.

They settle in that position for good few minutes before breaking away. When they do, Regina holds out her hand to him, which he takes, weaving their fingers together properly. She gives his hand a tiny squeeze and his eyes seek out hers, finding them as soft as they possibly could be… and dare he think… hopeful?

Regina pulls his arm and tips her head to the doorway. He nods and follows her lead, as she guides them out of the room, holding his hand the whole way out.


	14. Chapter Thirteen Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise bitches, bet y'all thought y'all saw the last of me. Anyways, I'm so happy to finally place this chapter in your hands. It is split in two because this chapter clocked at 32K and I cannot ask you guys to read all of that at once. So, I'm posting part 1 now and will post part 2 within the next week! Big thank you to Shay, Lisa and especially Manuela, who's been putting up with my shit since like January for this chapter. You guys are amazing! Now you guys enjoy and drop me some comments!

He's like a drug, and now that she's had a taste, she can't stop. They're supposed to be friends, just friends. But ever since that day she kissed him in her apartment, she's been overcome with addiction, craving his kiss, his touch, his everything.

She doesn't get it. She's spent the past several days trying to piece it together, but she hasn't come up with an explanation yet.

When she and Robin first met, they were polar opposites. Okay, well not  _polar_  opposites, they did have some qualities that were similar in their own respect, but for the most part, they were wholly different people when they met. While they shared a mutual hatred for people and an absolute disdain for commitment, she didn't like his attitude toward women or life in general. He wasn't someone she expected to get involved with, not to become friends and certainly not to become lovers.

Not that they are lovers.

Currently she doesn't know what they are or where they stand. All she knows is she spent the better half of her Saturday morning lounging around in her apartment with Robin, which involved copious amounts of kissing and touching.

They spent the rest of their Friday night just hanging out. They'd decided on The Exorcist for their movie, but Regina managed to stay awake for a second film, so they watched Psycho, too. She'd like to say she enjoyed both films but she was a bit preoccupied with her thigh touching Robin's, their feet doing a little dance with one another and the hand holding, which began with the scene of the spider-walk down the stairs and never really ended. It all culminated in Regina burying her face in Robin's shoulder during the projectile vomiting scene, and resulted in her tucking herself safely in his side for the rest of the evening. That was a distraction of its own merit, but it was aided by the sweet intoxication of his scent and the soothing skitter of his fingers up and down her arm.

But they didn't do anymore kissing that night, save the one sweet little peck she gave him after the movies were finished and she announced it was time for bed. She thinks it was the whole domesticity of getting him blankets and a couple pillows from the linen closet that made her do it. They'd made up his little pallette on the sectional, but not before thwacking each other with the pillows a couple of times. And when the couch was all made and he bid her goodnight, she just stood up on her tiptoes without thinking and gave him a small little kiss.

Robin just let her kiss him, he didn't push or prod or make a fuss, just let her kiss him. It was a sweet little kiss and that was all there was to it.

She thinks he didn't—and still doesn't for that matter—know where they stand either, which has proven to make her happier than she thought, because, unlike the very first Robin she met, he's patient and unaggressive about the whole thing. Lucky for him, too, because it only makes her want to kiss him more.

Despite that sentiment, however, she managed with only one kiss and that had been enough to send Regina to bed truly happy that night.

The next morning is when things had heated up a little bit between them.

She'd woken up to the delicious scent of eggs wafting back into her bedroom. She should've woken up feeling uneasy, and certainly without appetite, thanks to the greasy ball of popcorn and worry for her mother's sake that had been baking all night.

But she didn't. She woke up with a smile on her face and an eagerness to get out of bed. That feeling was only amplified when she found Robin dreamily pushing around eggs in the frying pan, humming a familiar tune. He'd had his back to her and must not have heard her approaching because when she said, "I didn't know you could sing," he'd nearly jumped out of his skin, causing Regina to nearly piss herself laughing.

Her laughing had turned into taunting him about the horror movies really getting under his skin, something he didn't take as lightly, grumbling about how, "the horror movies had nothing to bloody well do with it," and that, "you shouldn't sneak up on a man in the middle of cooking eggs, is all." He also reminded her that  _she'd_  spent the majority of The Exorcist buried into his shoulder, refusing to look at the screen, and that she really had no room to talk.

She must have been feeling bold in that moment because she remembers deadpanning on Robin with a sultry smirk and telling him, "Well then, let's stop talking," which he enthusiastically agreed to.

The next thing she knew, their eggs were abandoned and they found themselves on the couch, her straddling his lap and him coasting his hands all over her body, as their lips met hungrily and intensely. It wasn't until clothes started coming off that they'd slowed down enough to remember the eggs and Regina's obligations. Nothing quite kills the mood like when a man says, "your mum," while you're in the middle of creating a half-assed hump job.

Regina knows she was being very dismissive about the the whole thing when he first brought it up and in hindsight she shouldn't have avoided it at all, but it didn't take long for Robin's subtle urging and a few deep breaths to convince her to suck it up and do what she needed to.

He'd been so incredibly sweet in that moment, holding her hand as she fetched her phone and sat down on the sofa to call Mal. And he didn't let go once she'd finally plucked the courage to dial her friend's number. In fact, she's pretty sure that as the phone began to ring, Robin only held onto her hand tighter, giving it a gentle squeeze with every ring.

Regina's certain that had Robin not been there, she would have never called, she would've just evaded the whole issue and let herself believe that her mother was perfectly healthy and continuing to demean and upset the general public. She would've called eventually, but not before a long winded period of avoidance and refusal to believe that her mother could be dead.  _That_  she couldn't have faced on her own.

So, she's grateful to him, even more so now, because when Regina finally got ahold of Mal, she was greeted with news she hadn't expected. Her mother was fine— more than fine actually. Cora had been accepted into a new drug treatment trial, which had been fairly successful with her type of cancer. She still had to go through chemo and they weren't anywhere near out of the woods, yet, but Cora's health was improving—she bought herself some more time.

For someone that had never brought anything other than misery and hatred, Regina was still elated by the news and nearly had to pin herself down to the couch to prevent herself from jumping up and down. But Robin was good at keeping her grounded, their fingers were still entangled and bodies still close, making for a good anchor. It helped Regina diligently listen to Mal, as she informed her of the risks and possible outcomes of the trial. She's almost sure now that she wasn't even breathing while Mal was giving the news.

But, as soon as they hung up with her friend, Regina let out this tiny squeal that was probably more than Cora Mills ever deserved. Regina's not even totally sure why she's so happy over the possibility that Cora might be taking up space in the world for just a little while longer. But she supposes the possibility of it all is what lifted her spirits—the idea that she still has the chance to rise above the person that her mother was and allow her mother to see it happen. And she knows now that she's capable of that, because fearing the worst for Mother's sake was enough to make her realize that she will always be more compassionate and better than her mother.

The rest of it all was a blur. All she can really remember is hanging up with Mal and landing one big, fat, gigantic kiss on Robin, which had taken him by surprise but he was nevertheless receptive to. And things sort of took off from there—more of that kissing and touching from before returned and clothes had started to come off. They might have gone all the way if it wasn't for their lack of condoms.

It was awkward. He'd suggested making a run for some but she'd argued that it would just kill the whole mood and she'd rather just relax and make out with him some more. He was compliant and willing, but the whole thing left an awkward aftershock that never quite left the room.

Her anxiety over the whole thing has settled slightly, though, because she hasn't seen Robin since that day. They'd snuggled on the couch and watched a few more movies (Halloween, Friday the 13th), then passed out candy when the gaggles of children in facemasks and costumes began congregating at her door. But it all ended on a even more awkward note, with her practically pushing Robin out of her apartment, while he tried to be insistent that he should stay and spend time with her. It was a battle he'd ultimately lost, dejectedly leaving her apartment fully dressed in his Robin Hood gear and compromising that she call him on Sunday to let him know she was okay.

She'd agreed and even done so, calling him after her lunch with Kathryn. (This week they're going dress shopping, oh joy.)

They'd talked for a good while on Sunday and everything was seemingly normal. Robin was sweet and attentive, but respectful when she wanted space.

He'd been extremely generous with that space on Monday, which irked her a little bit. Not that it really was his fault. Robin had a dentist appointment, so she didn't see him, but she did get a selfie from him in the dentist chair with one of those heinous bibs that they make you wear. Plus, they texted off and on all day as well. It's not like he'd totally forgotten about her, he just gave her a little breathing room, which she hadn't realized she resented so much until she was getting it.

But maybe that was just what she needed, because when Tuesday finally rolls around, she's more than excited to see him, and her worries from the weekend start slowly evaporating into nothing.

[:]

It's weird and almost stupid, how a few kisses from the man makes her breathless every time she sees him.

Something Regina notices on Tuesday morning, when she's walking down the hall from the office, minding her own business, and she sees Robin walking toward her, giving her a goofy grin and sending her hormones into a frenzy. And it doesn't help when he comes nose to nose with her and greets her with a soft  _hi_ , which she returns equally as soft and imploring. Although, she starts to ponder less on her feelings and more on his accent and his eyes and his  _arms_ , which are slowly wrapping around her waist, as his lips start to descend to hers, planting those kisses she'd missed so much over the past two days.

It felt more like a lifetime, in fact.

He must feel the same because he murmurs a, "I missed kissing you," against her lips.

Regina cracks a smile and whispers back, "Me, too."

Robin doesn't say another word and it takes Regina a couple moments to realize that he's trying to move them, guiding her gently backward until she finds herself immersed in a new environment, surrounded by bright colors and lots of clutter, the telltale sign of a classroom. She's not even sure it's his because their lips are back together the instant she hears the door close behind them. His fingers are threaded in her hair and her hands have found a home on his ribs, fisting his shirt there in an attempt to bring him closer.

They should not be doing this, not at the school and certainly not in a classroom that may or may not be his. Of course, they have standards, it's not like they're going to end up fucking on one of the desks, but they shouldn't be doing this either.

And she most certainly shouldn't let out a breathy, whiny, "Robinnn," when he presses a kiss just behind her ear.

It gives him pause, too, because his face reemerges to give her a look that can only be described as,  _what the fuck was that?_ , making her turn a bright red no doubt, out of embarrassment.

But he's quick to wash it away with a heated kiss and a low, "I wanna hear that again."

Regina chuckles and gives him a delicate little kiss. "Not here," she tells him, the hint of laughter still resonating in her voice.

Robin releases a tiny sigh and concedes, but not before giving her ear a tiny nip and breathes, "Fine, but might I just say you look absolutely gorgeous and completely ravishing today."

"You know, you should really stop trying to be so charming all the time," she teases him with a genuine smile, "because it's gonna make me start having expectations."

Robin chuckles before pressing another gentle kiss to her lips and following it with, "And where would be the fun in that?"

Regina rolls her eyes but he simply gives her another chaste kiss, then adds confidently, "But, you should have them. I don't exactly plan to disappoint."

"I don't think anyone plans on that," she points out. "It just happens."

Robin huffs out a sigh—not exasperatedly but something almost… playfully discontent, making her acutely aware of how adorable he can be sometimes. And she kisses  _him_  this time, solely for that reason.

She could do it forever, just exchanging sweet innocent kisses with Robin, while making promises that make her heart stutter in her chest. It's all she needs for now, someone who makes her feel happy and special and important and Robin is doing a damn good job of it at the moment. So good, that it's made her lock away the pestering voices in her head that tell her this isn't real, that it's too good to be true and to just wait for the other shoe to drop because it's coming eventually. But the voices are quiet now, only leaving room for the subtle thrum of her heartbeat getting quicker when she sees him and the beautiful lilt of his voice in her head enticing and enchanting her in one unified melody.

Although, if she's honest, she would like to do a lot more than just sweet kisses at the moment.

She can't stop thinking about kissing those lips, tasting that jaw, reveling in the feel of his palms kneading all the right places on her body. Ever since their almost heated romp on her couch Saturday, she's been one riled up bundle of sexual desire.

But right now, they're at school and need to be responsible. She needs to break away from him and go do adult things, like prepping her classroom for her students. But it is  _so_  hard to pull away from those beautiful eyes and those gorgeous lips and that tantalizing scruff.

She wills herself to do it, though, because she has to. Nothing would be more mortifying than being caught making out by his students. They'd be traumatized and she and Robin would certainly get fired. So, she musters all the willpower she has to give his shoulder a little nudge, hinting at him to move. It's easier to make him do it than for her to do it on her own, after all.

Robin knows it, as well, because he doesn't argue, and instead, gives her one last kiss before getting out of her way. But that doesn't stop him from looking painfully pitiful as he does it, pouting all despondently as he goes. It makes her smile, however, reminding her once more of how stupidly adorable he can be.

Regina chuckles quietly at him, and doesn't resist the urge she has to bite down into her bottom lip (since he can't do that to her anymore).

"Stop looking like a kicked puppy," she orders him sportively with a doleful smile.

But Robin just milks it even more, pushing that bottom lip out even further and crossing his arms across his chest. "Hard not to look like a kicked puppy when you're standing there looking all smart and beautiful," he bemoans, "how could I not look it?"

Her eyes roll around in her head and she jests, "You men will try anything to get in a woman's pants, huh?"

He shrugs. "We're a weak specimen, men, what can I say?"

"Finally someone admits it."

"D'you want me to say women are the stronger of the sexes, hm?" he muses as Regina begins to saunter closer to him.

She smirks to herself, dipping her head to hide how much she's enjoying this, and tucks a chunk of hair behind her ear. "I won't say I wouldn't get a thrill out of hearing you say it," she tells him.

He waits until she's within reaching distance before muttering, "Is this gonna be our version of foreplay? Me saying feminist stuff and you getting all randy because of it?"

Regina actually laughs out loud and  _hard_. When she finally reaches Robin again, she loops her arms around his neck. "Sounds like a good sex life to me," she says with a waggle of her brows.

"Well, in that case…" he drawls, leaning into her further, no doubt trying to steal another kiss.

But she isn't giving in that easily, feminist jargon or not. "You know," she sings softly, "Speaking of women being superior and all, I've been thinking."

"Oh?" he hums.

Regina smiles impishly to herself. "Well, you know, you haven't exactly asked me out on an official date, yet. So, it seems the woman has to do all the heavy lifting here and has to ask you out, instead."

Robin's hands tighten just so on her hips as his eyes show a glint of excitement, that had sparked somewhere during their conversation, but hadn't quite bloomed into blaze until now.

"Are you asking me out then?"

Regina takes a pause, then nods, closing in the last few inches between them until they're literally a breath away. "Yes I am. What are your plans Saturday night, Mr. Locksley?"

Robin's features do something weird, then. At first, it's obvious his interest is piqued. He's eager, not overly so, probably in an attempt to guard his pride, but he's, at least, happy. Except, not even a millisecond later, after she says  _Saturday night,_  his face sours, lips turning down into a frown, brows furrowed so deeply they nearly meld into one and his worry lines become so evident that it almost ages him by a few years.

Some features even bleed out onto Regina, an extension of worry for the sudden change in his attitude. Even the air around them is taut with deep tension, making it infinitesimally harder to breathe.

"You okay?" she queries, bringing a hand to his cheek.

He shakes his head dismissively. "No, yeah I'm fine. It's just, erm, that day isn't gonna work for me."

"Oh," she answers, expelling some air she was holding in, "that's fine. We can do another day or something, if you need."

"Yeah," he sighs, and she can suddenly tell how far away Robin is from their conversation. She can nearly see his thoughts travelling light-years away from them. It seems his body wants to follow suit, as well, because it's shifting awkwardly against hers, nearly to the point that it feels like he's squirming.

She releases any relative hold she has on him and he takes full advantage of the freedom, taking several strides away from her. She frowns and her chest begins to feel heavy, her stomach uneasy and her breathing noticeably quicker. The abrupt pop of their little bubble is almost startling. They were having a good moment, or so she thought, but now it's just weird and she doesn't like it.

It takes a minute for her voice to get past the cottony feel of her throat to ask, "Is everything okay?"

But Robin's mind has gotten even further away because he's absentmindedly babbling, "Yeah, no, yeah, totally fine, I just, yeah I'm fine," all while refusing to look at her. Instead, his focus is on the door, which he's shuffling to and propping open with his foot. He doesn't look at her until she catches up and he finally says, "Raincheck?"

She can tell he's trying to be sincere, but something about his face is still strained and his whole body is rigid, he doesn't even warm to her touch when she reaches for him. It worries her, this 180 in character, but she doesn't want to pry. So, she does the only thing she can, which is give him a, "Yeah, sure," and walk through the door.

But she takes pause just before she's all the way out and takes a good, solid look at him. His Adam's apple bobs harshly in his throat, indicating a nervous swallow, but then he's stone faced, refusing to give any hint as to what's going on in his head. She thinks that'll be an image she can't shake for the rest of the day, haunting her with the idea that Robin has some secret that he doesn't want to share with her.

Though, she really has no right to get mad or expect anything from him, when she has the looming ghost of Phoenix following her around everyday. Especially, when that ghost is a secret to everyone except her.

She wonders as she trots down the hallway, after telling him goodbye and requesting that they talk later, if this is what everyone around her feels like. If they see her with this edgy aura all the time because she has this secret she refuses to share. She's curious if any of them have craved the proximity she now craves from Robin, that proximity she's currently being denied. She knows they have and Robin is probably one of them, too. It gives her a harsh punch in the gut when she thinks about how rejected he might have felt when she gets all mum about Phoenix. A little voice in her head pipes up, lamenting about how it's unfair, and she realizes it's right, it is unfair. But she has no leg really to stand on because of Phoenix. How can she cry unfairness, then turn around and defend her choices to keep quiet about her indiscretions?

She can't begrudge Robin's decisions to act this way, not unless she wants to be a hypocrite.

But that doesn't mean it won't plague her for the rest of the day.

[:]

And it does. Her mind is clouded all day with the look on Robin's face and their whole awkward encounter that morning. She's nearly driven to madness trying to decide what part of the conversation made him freeze up like a deer caught in headlights. Was it the asking him out part? Was it the fact that  _she_  asked  _him_? Was it the date itself? Or the calendar date? Does he have a fear of going out on Saturdays or something? Is he seeing someone else? Is he busy and just didn't want to tell her?

Every single one of those questions surface and resurface in her mind, demanding answers, or at least, some logical explanation for what transpired that morning.

It gets so bad that halfway through a meeting, Kathryn has to nudge her pretty harshly in her side to get her attention. She hasn't been listening to a single word David or Ella have said, so much so that she hopes Kathryn has taken thorough notes about the meeting to make up for it. But when her superiors ask her opinion on the behavior of a student, all eyes are on her, while she sputters out a great deal of nothing, as a result of trying to comprehend the question asked of her.

"Regina?" Ella drawls obnoxiously and it takes all Regina has not to roll her eyes.

Instead, Regina turns to her friend in an attempt to ground herself to something. Kathryn's brows are scrunched together, but she manages to give a tiny nod to egg Regina on. It's also meant to be Regina's answer, as well, she thinks. And thankfully, some subconscious part of her was listening because she's washed over with snippets from the conversation:  _he does struggle to keep focused_ ,  _yeah, he gets up a lot from his chair, too_ , and  _maybe we should suggest seeing a professional about an ADHD diagnosis_ , finally materializing her question, which immediately draws out her answer.

"Yes," she affirms what she believes her coworker suggested and is encouraging her to agree with, "yes, I believe we should suggest to the parents that they take him for an evaluation."

Regina can see Kathryn expel a hefty breath in her periphery, making her realize how thick the air was with tension as they awaited her answer, much like her conversation with  _Robin_  had been earlier.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

As David starts rambling about a course of action and setting up a meeting with the parent, Regina is cursing herself mentally for being too distracted with Robin. She tells herself to cut it out and to push Robin out of her mind. No more Robin for the rest of the day. He's just someone she's maybe possibly seeing and if he wants to tell her, he will tell her. So, she is going to let it go and reconnect with the present instead, and stop worrying about something she has no control over.

She commits herself to it for the rest of the meeting, but she should have known that her internal agreement wasn't going to last very long.

As soon as David and Ella adjourn the meeting with straightening papers and mumbling final thoughts, Kathryn doesn't let the opportunity slip through her fingers. She eagerly pushes Regina out the door before the other two have even stood up and bid them farewell. Thankfully, they'll just attribute it to Kathryn's dedication to avoiding David as much as possible, which is still something she does. Hell, this meeting was about one of Kathryn's homeroom students. It could've simply been a meeting between her and David, but just to save face and avoid the awkwardness that will forever follow the two of them, they often loop Regina into these kinds of things. She should be angry about being their proxy and should confront them about it, but for the sake of Kathryn, she probably never will. Truthfully, she really admires her friend for still being able to be in the same building as her ex, let alone in meetings by herself with him.

But she'll take advantage of Kathryn's avoidance this time, considering it as a sort of payment for all the meetings like this one that she has to attend to help Kathryn out. Besides, this will end up being about Kathryn somehow anyway, even though Regina knows that the reason she's being dragged out of the room so quickly is because Kathryn is dying to know whatever it is that's perturbing her.

Regina doesn't even bother to stop or get out of it because her friend will undoubtedly get the truth somehow and she'd rather it come from herself than the grapevine, so.

At least, Kathryn is patient enough to wait until they're alone in the hall just outside the office to begin berating Regina with questions.

_Okay_ , so she doesn't berate her, but still the minute Kathryn finds the coast to be clear, she gives Regina a look like,  _what the hell is your problem and why haven't you told me already?_

Regina sighs, knowing that it's no use hiding the truth from Kathryn, nor is it conducive to lie. Instead, she sucks it up and fixates on one of the painted trees on the opposite wall. No way is she going to look Kathryn in the face when she tells her what's on her mind and why.

Time to bite the bullet.

"Do you remember our conversation at brunch the other week?" she asks, hoping against hope that Kathryn magically forgot that Regina declared that she was falling for Robin.

But of course Kathryn remembers. Of course. She wouldn't dare forget such a juicy piece of gossip like that. But the blonde still tries to play it cool, giving a coy, "Which part?" with an annoying smirk.

Regina tilts her head sideways and deadpans on Kathryn, hopefully making it very apparent that she's unamused. She purses her lips and answers with a clipped, "You know what."

Kathryn's smirk blooms into a full-on grin undoubtedly because her friend is reveling in the confirmation of her long-running suspicions. Regina wishes she could snuff out her friend's smug expression, but Kathryn technically has every right to be smug because she's right and  _that_ , perhaps, is the thing that annoys Regina the most.

"Kathryn," she warns with a groan and a roll of her eyes. "Do you also remember the part where I told you things are done on my terms and I don't want any meddling from you whatsoever?"

Kathryn nods dutifully. "Of course, I do."

"Okay, then I want you to remember that, as I tell you what I am going to tell you. Can you do that?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Kathryn dismisses professionally.

Regina takes a breath and returns her attention to that tree, admiring the detail of the leaves and the soft brushstrokes on the trunk of it. Then she spills her guts, confessing the truth she's bottled up for several days.

Though she's not sure Kathryn even makes it through the first sentence before losing her mind.

"Robin and I kissed after the carnival. He was helping me out of my costume and one thing led to another and—whatever, you get the picture. Anyway, that's  _all_  it was, we kissed and then we hung out some on Saturday. He helped me pass out candy and that's it. And I don't know, I thought maybe we were getting somewhere, so today I kind of just went for it and asked him out." (If her first statement didn't wipe Kathryn out, this surely did the trick, but Regina isn't paying her any mind, still focused on the tree.)

"But then he got all weird when I asked him what he was doing this weekend. The thing is, though, he seemed excited about going on a date, but when I suggested this weekend, he sort of freaked out. And I don't know if it's because he's seeing someone else and I can't ask because that'd be presumptuous and I'd feel horrible if I was wrong. Well, and I'd also feel horrible if I was right. And I just don't know what to think and it's not really my place to ask so I just... I don't know what to do."

Kathryn doesn't say a single word when Regina's done and she fears that she may have actually killed her. But when Kathryn reveals a sign of life by giving a perplexed hum, Regina knows that Kathryn is just lost in deep thought. (Thank god!) And without so much as another word, Kathryn begins to strut back towards the office like a tracking dog on the hunt, leaving a baffled Regina behind.

She runs after Kathryn, hissing, "Where are you going?"

Kathryn just whispers a, "Follow me," as she opens the door to the office.

Regina does as she's told, following Kathryn on her winding path back behind Ashley's front desk. It takes her a minute to realize what Kathryn's looking for, and it isn't really until she  _aha!s,_ stabbing her finger onto the wall, that Regina understands what's going on. It's a calendar, and given Kathryn's  _aha!_ , it must hold the answer to her question.

Regina's gaze files down Kathryn's arm to the tip of her finger, but before Regina can take in what Kathryn is pointing to, her friend exclaims studiously, "Just what I thought, it's his birthday this Saturday." Then she meets Regina's look of confusion with a pointed and, perhaps, even reproachful look. "Maybe he thought you were being inconsiderate because you forgot his birthday."

Regina feels a bit taken aback and lets Kathryn know it, giving her an indignant, "How was I supposed to know?"

"You're the one screwing him," Kathryn offers up sweetly.

Regina, quick on her heels, hisses, "I am  _not_  screwing him."

"Do you wanna be?" Kathryn sasses back.

Regina only answers her with an incredulous look, her eyes wide as saucers and eyebrows brimming her hairline.

"Right," Kathryn mumbles and straightens up, "not important. But, why would he hate his birthday?"

"I don't know," Regina snaps. "I mean I don't particularly like my birthday either, for the sole reason that I don't like to be reminded that I'm getting older, but I'd never actively avoid everyone because of it."

"Yeah, me either," Kathryn pouts and scratches her head.

But it takes all of 30 seconds for Kathryn's perplexed features to melt into something new, something that can immediately instill fear in the deepest part of Regina's soul. It's the face she makes whenever she's up to something, concocting some insane plan that Regina will inevitably hate. Regina can nearly see her gears grinding, trying to piece together the parts of a devious plan that will, without a doubt, implicate Regina and more than likely make a mess of things. But she waits Kathryn out, lets her develop her whole master plan before she's shot down by Regina's reasoning and blatant unwillingness to get involved in this.

Kathryn must be able to tell that Regina is going to deny her, though, because she frowns somewhere amidst her scheming. She crosses her arms and gets this angry look on her face that Regina has seen one too many times in her second graders.

"You haven't even heard what I'm gonna say," Kathryn laments.

Regina purses her lips and counters Kathryn with her own crossed arms. "Then say it," she growls.

Kathryn perks up a little, but Regina can see she's hedged with hesitation. Nevertheless, Kathryn suggests, "Why don't we throw him a party?" with almost no delay.

"You want to throw a grown man a birthday party?"

"No, I mean like a small get together. Me, you, Frederick, does he have any friends?"

Regina makes a face at the phrasing of the question. Does he have friends? Of course, he does.

Still, it gives her pause. She muses, trying to scour her brain for anytime he may have mentioned a friend or even a coworker he likes. She thinks she's seen him palling around with Maggie, so she'll chat with her first, but she isn't sure she's seen him hanging around anyone else other than Kathryn and Tinka, and that is because of her. There's also Belle, she crudely reminds herself with a violent ripple through her middle. Her unnecessary jealousy makes her dismiss the idea. So, she shrugs because she comes up dry, except she tells Kathryn something entirely different because she knows if she gives Kathryn a window, she'll take full advantage.

"I know a few people so I'll ask. But, Kathryn this is tentative, so please don't spend the rest of your day plotting because I'd rather get to the bottom of whatever is bothering him than spring a random party on him. Okay?"

Kathryn throws up her hands innocently. "Of course. No plotting until you give me the green light."

[:]

Except, by Thursday, Kathryn has planned it all the way out, not to Regina's surprise. By the time she's waltzing into Kathryn's room to give her the go ahead, her friend has already planned snacks, wine and games for them to play. The only thing Kathryn had been waiting on was Regina with a guest list, which she'd  _actually_  managed to throw together.

She should be angry with Kathryn for not listening to her, but if she's honest, Regina had nearly been sold on the idea when Kathryn had suggested it. And it only took until Wednesday for Regina to decide she wanted to go through it with.

Wednesday was when she'd spoken to Maggie.

She'd had felt completely awkward, walking to Maggie's little corner office in the gym, mostly because she wasn't sure, at the time, how close Maggie and Robin were. But Regina believed that her best course of action was, at least, trying to see if she could get to the bottom of Robin's abnormal behavior about his birthday.

Some of the awkwardness was also arguably a little bit of jealousy because Regina wanted to believe that  _she_  was Robin's greatest confidante. In hindsight, she thinks that that might be what was bothering her, the fact that Robin was closing himself off to her, just as she thought that they were developing a relationship of openness and honesty. Though, how can she really call it that when Phoenix is still locked safely in a crate, buried underground with weeds growing atop the soil?

But, at the time, when she was walking to Maggie's office, she simply chalked it up to her worrying over Robin. She hadn't really entertained the idea that her concerns may have run deeper than she thought. Besides, her primary concern was just speaking to Maggie about the issue, despite her nearly turning back a million times before she finally willed herself to stop being a wuss and just go in there.

When she'd finally plucked up the courage, she'd knocked on the door cordially and waited until Maggie swiveled around in her chair and beckoned her inside amiably, as if they were good friends, which had given her a sort of momentary lapse in confidence. Maybe Maggie and Robin weren't as close as she'd thought, maybe Maggie was just that type of person. But when Regina asked if Maggie knew Robin (which had sounded incredibly stupid coming out of her mouth, because of course she knew Robin, they work together), she'd lit up and actually surprised Regina by telling her that they'd gone out for drinks on a couple of occasions and talk frequently. Although, it'd done nothing to keep from waking the little green monster that had been slowly stirring within Regina. Except, for Robin's sake, Regina had quickly sung it a lullaby and put it back to bed again, so that she could get the information she needed.

Robin was the priority, not her porcelain feelings.

So, she was left with the task of asking Maggie if she'd known whether Robin had any plans on Saturday, which she denied, telling Regina that Robin hadn't said anything to her.

She meant to just leave it at that, to thank Maggie for her time and be on her way. But for some reason, she'd hesitated on her exit, stopping short of the doorframe. She had been paralyzed by her mind, nagging her to do what she really wanted to, deep down what she really  _meant_  to do.

She'd whipped around and just blurted out, "Are you doing anything Saturday?"

Maggie just gave a simple  _no_ , and before Regina could really stop herself from it, she'd told the other woman all about Robin's birthday and his weird behavior and Kathryn's party idea. All of which, she'd listened to intently and diligently, staying quiet until Regina gave her room to talk.

_Or_ , until Regina tried to disparage the party idea, that is. Maggie was having none of that and even went so far as encouraging Regina to do it. She'd insisted that Robin would appreciate the gesture and perhaps even wanted it. Of course, she wasn't sure, but Maggie believed that she knew Robin well enough that he'd be touched by it, especially given that it was coming from Regina, which she'd made sure to add extra emphasis to.

Regina answering with a scoff was apparently the wrong thing to do because it spurred Maggie into a long-winded speech about her confidence in his feelings.

"He really likes you, Regina," she'd said, as well as, "I don't know why he's acting strangely about his birthday, but I know that any gesture from you would mean the world to him. I mean that."

Stupidly, Regina had answered with, "So you know about us?"

And Maggie had chuckled, telling her, "No, Robin wasn't exactly sure where you two stood when we last spoke, but I had a feeling that it would be something eventually."

Regina had tried her damned best to deny Maggie's suggestions, even though she knew it was far too late. The cat was let out of the bag by her own big mouth. Maggie didn't seem to think it was nearly as big a deal as Regina made it out to be. Instead, the other woman was far more concerned with convincing Regina to just throw the damn party.

And she was successful.

Her persistence easily beat out Regina's stubbornness, (which was  _shocking_ , but Regina had already been pretty willing to yield on the birthday plan as it was). All she really needed was a good push. Maggie's blessing was all the push she needed and she ended up leaving the gym with a solidified decision that Robin was going to get his birthday party come hell or high water.

Everything else fell into place after that. Regina had gone to Tinka next, who'd nearly pissed herself in excitement, and declared in one breath that she and Killian wouldn't miss it for the world. Regina had even put aside her pride long enough to ask Belle if she could attend.

Her last task had been to visit Robin's roommate at the Rabbit Hole and see about his availability, which he'd been more than willing to accommodate for Robin's party, telling her that he usually worked Saturdays, it's good money, but that he thought he could sacrifice one Saturday for a night of debauchery. It was a bit awkward when she'd told him it was just going to be an intimate gathering at a friends place, but John seemed to stay onboard anyway, joking that it'd be easier to get his girlfriend there if it was just a simple party.

That was everyone she needed. A ten person guest list seemed sufficient enough to give Kathryn the okay, not that it was necessary because apparently her warnings had not been enough of a deterrent. But Regina isn't angry when Kathryn tells her all of her plans. In fact, she's sort of relieved, gladly accepting all of Kathryn's ideas and even thanking her for putting it all together. Though, she knows it was no hassle for Kathryn, if there's anything she enjoys, it's organizing events.

Still she thanks her and tells her that she'd handle the rest, particularly pertaining to Robin because she doesn't want anyone else springing it on him when she doesn't know how he'll react. She'd much rather get the brunt of it if the plan goes south rather than their friends.

She really hopes it doesn't go south, though.

[:]

She manages to sort of avoid Robin for the most part for the rest of the week. Wednesday and Thursday had been pretty easy because she'd been running around everywhere trying to settle his birthday plans. He'd texted her Wednesday, apologizing for their conversation Tuesday, but she'd dismissed it, telling him it was fine, they could always raincheck for another day.

But she worries she might have been a little too dismissive because Thursday and Friday are met with radio silence. The fears in her head tell her that he's thinking she's pushing him away again because he pushed first, but that isn't the case. If anything, she's trying to draw him closer, trying to put a crack in that casing he's suddenly built around himself.

So, she texts him on Friday, just to be certain that he doesn't think she's upset with him. It's a simple,  _Hope you're having a good day_ , but she thinks it gets the point across.

And it seems to because he texts her back with a flirty,  _It'd be better if I could see you_

She privately thinks to herself that he will tomorrow, but that brings about the crippling worry that maybe he really does want to be left alone on his birthday or that maybe he's made plans that she doesn't know about.

_You're sure you can't do anything tomorrow?_  she asks, then adds a flirty,  _I've got a red dress that's dying to have a date with your hands…_

She pictures him smiling and knows he must be when he texts her back with a smirking emoji and,  _lol, sounds very tempting, love, but I've promised John I'd help him move some things round for Jack to move in_

She frowns because she knows he's lying, but she knew he was going to. She just wishes she knew why. Truthfully, it's eating her alive.

_He won't let me steal you for a couple of hours?_

_If you're wearing a red dress, I'm going to need more than a couple of hours_ , he teases.

_So take more than a couple of hours._

She knows the goal isn't to talk him into a date because Kathryn would absolutely murder her without a second thought. But she wants to see if he will budge at all.

When he texts back a simple,  _I can't_ , though, she thinks it might be time to give up the ghost.

But she makes one last desperate attempt to persuade him.

She gets up from her place on the couch and shuffles back down the hall to her bedroom, her feet carrying her all the way to her closet. She opens it and immediately reaches for her favorite red dress, as soon as it comes to view. It's a wicked idea and, oh, it's desperate but she doesn't care because she thinks it could possibly work.

She pulls the dress out and stalks over to her bed to set it down. Then, her hands find the button of her jeans, undoes it and rucks the pants down until they're a puddle at her feet. She kicks them off, flinging them toward her closet, then brings her attention back to the dress behind her. Her mouth twists into a smirk as she lifts the dress and slowly unzips the back of it. Robin has no idea what door he's opened.

Regina finds the spot on the floor where the warm dimming light of the late day is streaming in from her windows and walks over to it. There she drops the dress, letting it pool in a lazy fashion and takes a minute to admire her clever plan. But time is wasting, so she steps into the opening of the top of the dress. She tips the camera, angling it for the best lighting and view, and makes sure both her bare legs and her crumpled dress are visible.

She snaps the picture with a chuckle and ultimately decides that it will be satisfactory. Her thumb taps the blue arrow and sends the picture with the caption,  _Okay, but just know you're going to be missing this._

Robin doesn't take any pause in his reply. First he sends a,  _Fuck_ , then adds,  _You're making this incredibly difficult on me I'm a weak man_

_So make it easier on yourself_ , Regina tries and she realizes that her heart is suddenly beating much faster than before.

He takes several minutes to reply, giving her hope that he might actually be considering. Though, she has to scold herself and set a mental that they can't go on a date Saturday. They  _cannot_  go on a date.

This is just to get her foot in the door long enough to convince him to come to the party that Kathryn so meticulously organized.

But the notion doesn't stop her heart from fluttering happily when Robin finally texts her back.  _I'll talk to John_.

Thank you red dress.

 


	15. Chapter Thirteen Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Part Two is here! Again, I'm so sorry this took so long, but I really poured my heart and soul into this one. Big thank you once again to Manuela, Shay and Lisa, without whom you probably wouldn't be getting this chapter this way (you'll see what I mean lol). So, enjoy and let me know what you think.
> 
> Oh and one last thing, there's an error in an earlier chapter which I have to go back and fix, but just so you guys know, Kathryn is just about at four months pregnant, not five. She conceives in July and finds out in August.
> 
> But that's it, now go! Read! Comment! Enjoy!

Regina has a problem, and it's that she doesn't hear from Robin for the rest of Friday, or Saturday morning, and she starts to get nervous. She thinks maybe the red dress didn't quite work its magic completely. Or, maybe it did and it just wasn't strong enough to convince him to knock down the wall he'd built.

She spends the entirety of her Saturday morning panicking about it. She thinks that he's changed his mind, that he probably never wanted to do it and she'd painted him in a corner with no way out until the paint dried. It makes her feel shitty, too. What kind of friend backs you into a decision to the point that you have to avoid them just to get out of it?

She considers texting him and telling him not to worry about it, but then she fears that that might also force his hand and she doesn't want that. She wants for Robin to make his own decisions, wants him to open up when he's ready. After all, that's her thing with Phoenix, isn't it? If, and only if, she is ready and willing to share, will she actually do so. She could be held at gunpoint and she'd rather lie than let out the truth to undeserving ears. She has a right to if that's what she wants, and Robin deserves the same courtesy.

Her next move is to call Kathryn off, tell her to cancel the plans and apologize to everyone. But, as she's typing out her text (better yet, her own eulogy), she has an epiphany. She's so stupid, how could she not have seen it?

Robin does it all the time. Ever since they met, he's been doing it, and though, it often gets on her last fucking nerve, it's worked all this time. He's slowly been whittling down the thick walls she's put around Phoenix. Not by forcing her to talk—quite the opposite—no, he encourages her to speak when she's ready, if she's ever ready. He's just  _there_ , like a shadow, trying his best not to twist her arm into talking about what happened to her.

She can do that. She can be the shadow he needs, the arms that reach out when he's ready for the trust fall.

But she has to make sure he knows that.

She gets up from her couch, quits bemoaning her failed plan, and tells herself that she needs to get ready, go get Robin and give him the best damn birthday he's ever had.

[:]

Regina is ready to go by 5:30, which she knows will probably make her and Robin a little late, but Kathryn can grant them a little bit of grace.

Besides, she wanted to be well dressed and decent looking, when convincing Robin to come to the party they'd created behind his back. So, she made sure her shoulder length hair was blown out properly and her makeup was done, but not too heavy (she made sure the heaviest bit was her bright red lipstick). She forewent the red dress, though, deciding that it could either be her ace or it could be the play that gets the door slammed in her face. Rather than play a risky hand, she folds and decides on her little knee length blue dress instead.

As she does a final once over in her mirror, she tells herself that she's doing the right thing that this could be good and a big step for her and Robin.

In fact, she doesn't stop telling herself that until she's at his door, taking several deep breaths, which does nothing to ease the heaving of her chest at all. That nagging voice, lamenting about what a mistake this is, is back and louder than ever, but Regina shakes it off. Time is wasting and she's going to get Robin to this party if it kills her.

Her body decides before her brain does, though, because she can feel the subtle wrapping of her knuckles against his wooden door before she's even mentally braced herself.

Robin takes a few seconds before materializing, opening the door haphazardly with a puzzled look on his face and a curious,  _Regina?_

He looks good—a bit disheveled, but good. He's in a dark heather grey t-shirt with sleeves that rather accentuate his biceps. Getting in and getting out suddenly just got much more difficult. But the t-shirt is truthfully the better looking bit. He's in sweats that are also heather grey, but a lighter shade, and his hair is mussed and oily, making it apparent that he hasn't showered recently. Still, she finds him attractive in a musky, rugged, been-out-camping-for-a-week kind of way, even though she knows it isn't the case.

Regina goes to greet him but he beats her to the punch saying, "Your dress is blue."

It's an odd starter for the conversation, but she appreciates that he makes the observation, and that he isn't ignoring the fact that two days ago they were discussing a date.

She shrugs and says, "I'm saving the red dress for when you  _finally_  take me on a date."

Robin's brows furrow and he frowns. "Is that not what you're here for?"

Regina just lifts the full bottle of whiskey, she'd nicked from her liquor cabinet, in her hand. "Nope, I came to drink."

She'd taken the whiskey as an excuse, in case things went south. If it went south before the birthday plans were revealed then she could just give him the whiskey and be on her merry way. And if they went south afterward, then she'd be treating herself to a whole bottle of whiskey at Kathryn's.

But the whiskey seems to have another purpose that she hadn't considered before—her ticket in the door.

Robin inches the front door open just a little more and stares down the bottle in Regina's hand. He's actually considering it. Good.

Regina takes it as her one and only chance to push for the rest of the evening and asks sweetly, "May I come in?"

Robin's eyes squint a little more at the bottle, then lift to meet Regina's. He looks tired, she notes privately, and it sets off a little pang in her chest, worrying her again that she may be making a mistake. But, then Robin is pushing his door open wider and moving out of her way, giving her entrance to his apartment.

She pauses, just to make sure that he's okay with it, but decides it's better to take advantage of the situation while she has it. She marches across the threshold and into his apartment.

She realizes, once she's inside that this is the first time she's actually seen it. She knows with a hint of embarrassment that she's seen his lobby, (practically became Robin's stalker there), because it's where she first met John. He had given her their apartment number earlier in the week when she'd invited him to the party, but she'd nearly forgotten that she hadn't actually seen the inside of their apartment until now.

So, she takes a moment to scope the place out, get a peek into Robin's home life. Though, it won't be  _his_  soon enough because he's moving out and hopefully moving into her apartment complex. She'd called Mr. Poseidon on Monday and she wasn't able to get a good read on him but he sounded receptive to Robin as a residential candidate.

Regina's eyes zoom about quickly, trying to scan every inch of the room before Robin can come up behind her.

The space is kind of plain though, she makes a mental note to ask Robin at some point how he and John can afford a place like this, because it may be plain, but it's certainly built to be costly. The floors are shiny, well polished hardwood much like the ones in the lobby. The walls are a soft taupe color and are relatively bare, save the framed Star Wars poster that's hanging in the corner. She wonders which of them that belongs to and decides she'll ask him later. She hopes it's John's, because if it isn't, she can't imagine he'll be pleased to know his girlfri— wait, that isn't right. Regina blinks and shakes her head, as if that will rid her of her Freudian slip.

Did she… just try to call herself…?

No, she didn't mean it. It was an accident. An accident. Robin is a friend. A friend she kisses fairly often and wants to kiss again, but a friend.

She tries to dismiss her thoughts that are now running rampant through her mind and return her attention to the bookshelf against the wall, littered with various trinkets and memorabilia and cases most likely containing video games and perhaps a few films. But she realizes, almost too late, when her gaze shifts to the black leather tufted sofa that Robin is talking to her.

What is he saying?

"...I mean I suppose it won't be home much longer, but I guess that all depends on my interview on Monday."

That's enough to get her out of girlfriend mania. She whirls around to face Robin with a smile, "You got an interview with him?"

"Yeah," Robin chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "He called Thursday. I wanted to tell you—thank you—but I've just been off and I wasn't sure if you—"

"You mean that you weren't sure if I'd want to talk to you when you were blowing off our date," she cuts him off.

"Well, no," he reasons, "I hadn't tried to give you the slip yet, but I thought you weren't speaking to me on purpose."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that," she admits softly.

"Were you?" he queries timidly, and it almost breaks her heart the way he looks at her."No, of course not," she sighs, "I just didn't want to crowd you. You were clearly going through something and I didn't want to get in your way."

Robin smiles gently, thankfully, but doesn't speak, so Regina does, even if it is against her better judgment.

"Why did you give me the slip?"

Robin sighs frustratedly. "'Cause I'm a wanker," he grumbles and turns away from her, stalking over to the small wet bar by the door.

He reaches in one of the cabinets to pull out two whiskey glasses and carries them over to the breakfast bar that divides the kitchen from the living room. He sets the glasses down, then pulls out two stools and plops down on the leftmost one. Then he's looking at Regina and beckoning her over. She follows his direction and takes the seat next to him, placing the whiskey on the bar.

"Rittenhouse," he reads the label.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to drink it. I'm more of a Bulleit girl," she tells him.

"You ever had this?" he asks, twirling the nose of the bottle between his fingers.

Regina shakes her head and Robin laughs wryly. "It's rubbish, but I'm willing to drink it with you, if not for anything but the experience."

Regina's cheeks warm a little. "You don't like it?"

"Nah," he says with a wave of his hand, "too fruity for me, but you might like it."

"Why because I'm a woman?" she mocks him.

"No," he grouses. "I just meant that— that you specifically might like it for no other reason than that you are Regina Mills."

Her eyebrow lifts suspiciously. "Mhm," she hums.

Robin just rolls his eyes and pours them a drink in each of their glasses.

While he's pouring, Regina takes the opportunity to get back to her whole purpose of being there.

"Where's John?"

Robin hesitates to screw the cap back on the whiskey. He had to have known that it'd come up eventually. Still, "Errands," he lies.

Well, actually, it isn't really a lie. John  _is_  running errands, but for her. She'd asked him to grab a small cake for Robin, which had nearly put Kathryn in cardiac arrest. God forbid she's not in charge of one little thing. But, she reckoned that he would have a better chance at picking a cake Robin would actually enjoy.

But Regina doesn't reveal her master plan quite yet. Instead, she looks to the whiskey, then to Robin and back to the whiskey.

"'Spose I should try this then, huh?" she asks with a chuckle.

But when he only answers with a snort, she looks back at Robin and finds him brooding, almost scowling and she realizes it might actually be time to make the big reveal. She's been prepping for this for days now. She got her foot in the door, now it's time to kick it wide open.

Her eyes go back to her glass and she reaches for it, signaling for Robin to do the same. He lifts his glass, as well, and turns to face her. She extends her glass, then, and he does the same, tapping the two lightly together, with a nearly inaudible, "Cheers."

She watches him sip first and he makes a face, which he hopes is for the whiskey. She knows it definitely is when she takes a tiny sip of her own. It tastes… fruity, yes, but almost perfumy and she thinks she isn't really crazy about it either. But right now it's going to be her best bet at finally getting to the point.

Regina eyes her glass again, grimaces, and throws back the rest of the glass of whiskey.

Liquid courage seems to be the only viable solution to get her through this.

The idea of not going through with it flits across her mind, as she rises from the bar top, but she knows she has to do it, if not for any other reason than Kathryn would kill her. But also, because she cares about Robin and he deserves to know that. Not to mention, he deserves to enjoy a day that's supposed to be dedicated to him anyway.

So, she pushes back her inhibitions and tacitly tells herself to take a deep breath. Her eyes lock on Robin's, which are a bit wild and confused, but equally as curious.

She finally takes that deep breath, then says, "Alright, well, let's get you dressed."

Robin sets his own glass down and takes Regina's offered hand, which helps him off the stool. But, she lets it go, and asks which way his bedroom is. When he points back behind her, she whips around and marches straight to Robin's room without so much as another word, leaving him behind her, stammering dumbly. She ignores him, determined that she's going to pull this off, that she's going to confidently show him an intentional act of caring and goddammit, he's going to accept it.

After all he's done and willing to do, he deserves that much.

She makes a beeline for his closet, heading straight for the doors and ripping them open grandiosely in one fell swoop. Robin lags from behind, probably physically manifesting the crawling pace that his mind is using to process what Regina is up to. Still, she disregards him and begins scanning the closet for something for him to wear to the party. There are several tops and bottoms hung properly on hangers but the majority of them are in heap at the floor of the closet. She knows she shouldn't be surprised at that—Graham was the same way—but it still itches at her neuroses that beg for order.

Thankfully, however, the ones hanging up do have a wide variety and run the whole gamut in color and style. She thinks a t-shirt and jeans should be nice enough, maybe some nicer trousers, since he is the birthday boy—he might want to look sharp on his day. She considers a soft blue or grey for a top because they both look nice on him, really help make his eyes pop. Though, that might be entirely selfish, not that she's very intent on caring, anyway.

As she starts pulling several shirts of varying blue and grey color gradients, Robin finds his voice, demanding that Regina tell him,  _what the bloody hell is going on_.

It gives Regina pause, as she reaches for another shirt that's hanging up, nearly making her choke on the nerves building up in her throat. She does her best to swallow them and pace herself.

She chooses not to look at Robin, because it just makes the words fall easier off of her tongue. And she keeps with her task, perhaps, even concentrating harder than she needs to.

"Robin," she begins hesitantly, worrying if she can make up the proper words with the proper meaning on the fly, "when we first started getting to know each other, you were... obnoxious and persistent… obnoxiously persistent," she chuckles dryly.

"And it drove me nuts. And I constantly asked myself how someone could be that impossibly ignorant when it came to leaving well enough alone, especially given how misogynistic and crude you are—were. It didn't seem like you would be the type of person to reach out at all. But, then I realized that you were deliberately ignorant, because that's just something you do. You have an affinity for helping and caring about people and not leaving them alone even when they want you to, because you want them to feel like they matter. And I almost feel envious because I've never had the courage to do that for someone. And then it made me feel self-conscious because what if you get sick—and don't say you won't because I know you believe that— but what if you get sick of giving so much when I can't do that and you realize you deserve better than that?"

Robin tries to interrupt, but Regina presses on. She's on a roll and there's no way she's stopping now.

"Then, your birthday happened and I decided that now is my chance to step out of my comfort zone and to...  _reciprocate_  your feelings, because I want you to know that I—I care about you, too, and that you matter, too. And it's not just because it's your birthday. But, because you are special and wonderful, and you deserve to have a day dedicated to you that is equally as special and wonderful."

Robin tries to interrupt again, uttering something but Regina just barrels right through.

"Listen, I don't know why you've been avoiding your birthday, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to—though, if you do, I am always here to listen—but you should be celebrating, or at least, letting people celebrate you. And I just want to do that for you. So, if you trust me, you'll put this on," she extends the clothes to him, "and let me be the one to be there for you tonight."

Robin stands there slightly gobsmacked when she finishes and finally takes a full breath. His eyes, however, are soft and imploring, revealing that he's beyond touched by her gesture and making Regina feel proud of herself for once. She takes a moment to let herself relish in the way Robin straightens up and closes his mouth to morph it into a smile and how  _she_  is the reason for all of it.

She did that. She made him happy.

For once, it feels like she's done something right in a relationship, even though she's not entirely sure she'd say they're in a relationship quite yet. She isn't exactly sure what they are, but they do have a relationship  _with_  one another, a relationship that can be sprinkled with grand gestures and affection. And today, she's succeeded at that much.

Robin takes a small step toward her. She thinks she might see a little wetness brimming at his bottom lid and his incandescent smile makes her heart dance in ways she never thought she'd feel.

Her throat is completely dry and sticky, but she manages a wry, "So what's it gonna be, birthday boy?"

Robin's head slowly tilts to the right and the light of the room catches the soft gratitude radiating in his beautiful blue eyes. But he blinks a few times, only giving her glimpse of that thankfulness until he whispers a soft, "Regina," that makes it clear how he feels, and makes her insides go all gooey.

Regina doesn't move, doesn't even know if she can. She's captivated by him, giving her a twinge of that feeling that she can't accept that she feels already—but more importantly, that very same feeling that is currently reflected in Robin's eyes. Suddenly, the air in the room feels heavier, or maybe that's her chest? But her breathing is much shallower than before.

She's so distracted by trying to take a deep breath, that she doesn't notice him moving. He's propelling himself toward her without another word, his steps matching the tempo of her breathing, until their bodies collide and his arms are enveloping her tightly upon impact, while his lips desperately seek out their match, meeting them without hesitation.

Regina shouldn't be surprised by the kiss but she releases a soft gasp as their lips meet.

The kiss grows hotter, wetter, sloppier. Her tongue peeks out instinctively, trying to get that taste she can't stop thinking about. Robin reacts, wantonly opening for her with a groan and letting her tongue find his. It's a brief little moment but it's enough to warm up the core of her and bloom outward to her extremities.

Robin must be able to sense it because he breaks their kisses to mutter a low, teasing, "You know we could just stay here."

His hands trace down her bicep and and continue on downward until his hands are skimming against hers and he's weaving their fingers together lazily. Her face tilts up out of reflex, giving her a front row view of his award winning smile, which is currently wrapped in a cute little smirk that almost sway her convictions.

But she knows better. Kathryn would annihilate them both, then find a way to raise them from the dead, only to give them an earful and smite them once more.

Regina isn't particularly keen on that, so she suppresses a laugh and tells him, "Yeah, nice try. Get dressed."

Robin drops a gentle peck to her lips before pulling back with the dirtiest of smiles. "You don't wanna stay and help?" he asks, feigning a helpless little pout that makes her eyes roll into the back of her head.

But, he isn't the only one who can tease, so she leans back up into him until their lips are nearly touching. "The only thing I'd help you do is get undressed," she whispers seductively, adding a small wink to the end for emphasis, which she instantly regrets because she's never been a strong winker.

Robin pays it no mind, or doesn't comment on it, at least. But he does lift his arms above his head and gives her a cheeky, "If you insist."

Regina says nothing and worries more about looking away from Robin to conceal her smile. She turns her back to him, so he can't see. "Get dressed," she says over her shoulder as she approaches the door.

She hears a tiny huff come from Robin but it seems to be his only form of protest, giving Regina the permission to walk out of the room. But, as she exits she peeps through the crack of the door jamb and gets a small glimpse of Robin removing his shirt. As the garment falls to the floor, he's glancing over in her direction with a smug, knowing look on his face. He knew she'd look back and he knew he could tempt her with it, draw her back into the room and undress him herself. She's got a half a mind to, but she manages to remain vigilant, despite his efforts.

The subtle charge of whiskey in her veins be damned.

[:]

Robin emerges moments later, wearing jeans and a dark blue button up with a considerable amount of buttons unbuttoned, which she isn't entirely sure is for the party. She has tiny inkling that it may also be a bit of retribution, which, much to her dismay, is actually working. It makes her hungry to pepper the bare part of his chest with kisses, sampling his skin and making him shudder beneath her soft kisses. But, she'll resist, if only for the satisfaction of thwarting his vengeance.

But, he must notice the wardrobe change has some effect on her because he walks up to her, closely enough that she can feel his warm breath wash against her brow as he says, "Like what you see?"

Regina realizes too late that her head tips up to look at him, taking in that glorious smug expression. Her lips curve upwards, though she tries her hardest to fight it.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she asks with a smirk of her own.

Robin's eyebrow ticks up in interest, but he says nothing. They're at an impasse, two stubborn minds refusing to give into the tension that's starting to spark between them. She likes this better though, the passive aggressive back and forth of electricity. It's easier than the feelings, so much easier.

So, she licks her lips, trying to entice him to close those final, breathless inches between them and give them what they both want.

"Y'know, I'm still up for skipping the party," he hums darkly, as he reaches for her hips and curls his fingers into them with just the right pressure, "and having a party of our own here."

She's tempted but not stupid. "You wanna pick out our caskets first? " she shoots back.

Robin just chuckles and squeezes her hips, making her press herself closer to him without meaning to. She probably shouldn't because it's playing with fire, but she can't resist. Regina grinds herself playfully into Robin, biting her lip and refusing to break eye contact with him.

Robin lets out a breathy  _fuck me_  on an exhale and Regina responds with another grind.

She leans her face closer to him, nearly grazing his lips and teases, "You wish."

"You bet your gorgeous, toned ass I do," he answers her and Regina can't help but laugh at that.

"Must you make this so difficult on me," he whines onto her lips. They're  _so_  close to kissing,  _so close_.

"It's my sole purpose," she volleys back softly.

"I've noticed."

Regina hooks an ankle around his and loops her arms around his neck. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

Robin hesitates for just a minute, looking away from Regina and probably contemplating the strength of his willpower. But when his eyes stop wandering and settle home with hers, his face breaks out into a wide smile, cunning and mischievous, and very Robin. She knows whatever he's going to say is going to be a smartass comment, and isn't disappointed when he answers with, "'Fraid I can't do much at the moment, I have to take this gorgeous woman on a date to my birthday party."

Regina rolls her eyes as he waltzes past her, but she follows behind him, anyway, knowing that accomplishing her goal is most important.

But that doesn't stop her from getting the last word, "Whoever said this was a date?"

Robin simply chuckles and says, "I can date a girl in blue just as easily as I can in red."

"Yeah, but does she want to date you?" she asks, as they cross the threshold of his door.

Robin waits to answer until he locks the door before telling her, "I suppose we'll see."

[:]

They arrive at Kathryn's at half past 6, making them just a little late. They probably would have been on time if not for all the flirting and kissing, but Regina was trying to take advantage of their seclusion because she wasn't going to be doing any kind of PDA once they got to Kathryn's, she'd told Robin that much.

The less any of them know, the better. It may be selfish, but she just wants Robin all to herself for now. So, she isn't going to willingly give that up, just for a few exchanges at a party, that she can certainly make up for later.

Maybe Kathryn got the memo, too, because she isn't even upset with their tardiness. Regina may have shot her a text or two, apologizing for them being late and promising to be there soon. But Kathryn was easily dismissive of it. Her texts just said  _no problem_ and  _we'll see you when you get here_ , which is just so un-Kathryn, it's a little scary. Usually, Kathryn would be hot on Regina's heels, insistent and agitated and driving her batshit crazy. Today though, she's relaxed, making Regina fear that it's just the calm before the storm.

Except, when they actually get up to the house, Kathryn is still as calm as her previous texts were. Maybe it's the pregnancy, she thinks, or maybe she's just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

She really hopes it's the former.

Robin moves to allow Regina in first, while bending toward Kathryn to give her a peck on the cheek. They all exchange greetings and Kathryn amiably wishes Robin a happy birthday.

Regina leads the way through the dim, cramped front hall toward the cozy little living room that Kathryn practically slaved over to make as homey as possible. But it's something that reasons that Kathryn was always meant to be a mom. She hits all the tick marks: she's got the warm, family-oriented home, she cooks and bakes, she's organized and is the queen of Groupon, plus she's got that look that could place fear in anyone, which comes in handy at their job.

There's a small portion of Regina that envies those traits. Sometimes, she wishes she could be mom potential, someone who takes kids to carnivals and treats them to cotton candy and soda (even though that isn't exactly a stellar parenting trait) but someone who just makes them feel special when their parents make them feel like shit.

Suddenly, there's a tiny pop in her chest that reminds her that the man she's staring at now is becoming that person.

Regina becomes acutely aware of how much that offsets her when she feels that uneasiness drizzle down her spine and bloom outward, until she is covered in that sticky, gooey dread that makes her feel even worse. She can feel herself tense up a little. This man, who'd been so misogynistic and uncaring, who'd seemed the least likely to be parent material has been more than outstanding in the parenting department as of late.

She frowns mournfully to herself as she takes a seat on the couch. Her worries must be seeping out onto her features because Robin's face contorts, as he looks at her from across the room, tilting his head just so, to indicate that he's trying to ask her if something is wrong. She waves him off though. His birthday is not about to get ruined by her own insecurities.

He goes back to greeting people, smacking palms with John and tugging the bigger man into one of those testosterone filled bro hugs that just scream  _I'm a guy I can't possibly let people think otherwise!_

Regina watches as he does the same with Killian, whom she had forgotten he'd met at the carnival during Halloween last weekend. They could be good friends, she thinks to herself. Killian was born here, but he and his brother Liam lived in the UK for a pretty long time. She forgets just how long exactly, but she thinks it was for the majority of their childhood. Their dad's Irish, and they'd moved back there for a good many years until he'd gotten a better job in the States. He and Robin could probably find a lot of common ground.

She's not a big fan of Killian, though, has told Tinka that on several occasions, not that she ever listens. But, Regina can't seem to bring herself to tell Tinka why she truly doesn't like him.

Although, that isn't the real reason, either. The real reason is that she simply thinks Killian is an ass, but her ways of knowing came long before either of them had met Tinka. In fact, it seems that since he's met Tinka, she has been nothing but a positive influence on him. He's not nearly as much of a pain in the ass as he used to be, she's garnered that much from run-ins with him and the few occasions he's joined Tinka at their social events. When they'd first met, he'd reeked of frat boy, but he's matured a great deal since then, though, he does have his moments that send Regina right down memory lane to their first encounters.

But, given that he's done so much growing, maybe he and Robin could be friends. Robin would be a good influence on him at the very least. Or, it could all go horribly wrong, Robin and Killian could spiral down a long rabbit hole of boyish depravity, and Tinka and Regina would have to just watch the whole trainwreck happen. But she hopes for all involved that Robin and Killian would just be good influences on one another.

Maybe even one day she, Robin, Tinka and Killian could go on a double date. It could be really nice. They could all do something really lax, like bowling or a weekend away to the lake or the beach or something. She'd like that, yeah.

When she's ready to tell people about her and Robin, she decides one of the first things she'll do is ask Tinka about them doing a cute double date.

But, for now, she selfishly wants Robin all to herself. Just for a little while. She'll tell Tink soon enough.

Most of the time, she doesn't introduce suitors to her friends because she doesn't want them in her business and usually because she doesn't want her friends to get attached to someone, who isn't going to be a longterm thing. But, as she continues to watch Robin greet everyone else, kissing all the ladies on each cheek and shaking Frederick's hand when he walks out of the kitchen, she realizes that he might already be too deeply embedded into their lives. She considers most of the people in the room her friends, but at the moment, she's irrelevant. These aren't her friends, these are  _Robin's_  friends, the friends he's made since he joined the staff at Blanchard Orchard.

Regina can feel a muddled mix of feeling impressed and worried.

Every other guy she's ever dated has only tolerated her friends. But not Robin. He wormed his way into their circle and became friends with many of them of his own accord.

Every other guy she's ever dated has only bothered to stick his toe in when she introduces him to her world, to her friends. But Robin has built himself an entire lakehouse, settled in, and is ready to dive headfirst into the water anytime he's given the chance.

That's what impresses her.

What worries her is what would happen then if they didn't make it. Would her friends be forced to choose sides? What if her friends like him more? If not, will their worlds be too blended for them to ever truly separate?

And what if things do work out? Will he be more willing to share information when talking to  _their_  friends? She'll never be able to hide anything from Kathryn ever again.

Someone's talking and it takes her a second to realize that someone is talking  _to her_. Her cheeks heat vehemently as she notices all eyes are on her while she tries to locate the voice. It's Frederick, off to the side back near the entrance to the kitchen.

She tries her best to tune into his frequency, and finally hears, "Do you want any wine?"

"Yes, of course," she shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts, "I'll take some Cabernet if you've got it."

Frederick tips his head toward Kathryn. "Have you met her? Of course, we have it. Although, I should probably let you have this bottle since we can't make use of it for nine months."

It's the wrong thing to say, because naturally someone in the room was going to notice. Regina isn't sure who to look at—Freddy, Kathryn,  _or Tinka_ , who she's sure is totally gobsmacked at the moment. But Regina ends up choosing Kathryn like everyone else, if for nothing else, than for self-preservation.

Nobody says a single word. Regina's pretty sure that no one even breathes. She thought maybe Frederick would be on the receiving end of some nasty daggers, but it appears instead that Kathryn is grateful for the attention. It shouldn't surprise Regina at all that her friend is pleased to have the spotlight even under less than desirable circumstances. After all, that  _is_  Kathryn.

When, still, no one makes a peep, Kathryn just looks sheepishly around at everyone. "Well," she drawls, "since you all asked."

Her eyes shift back down to her glass of water and she idly runs her finger around the rim, before softly murmuring, "I'm pregnant."

There's a feeble  _what?_  that escapes from Tinka's lips, seconds before the whole room erupts into sound. Everyone is suddenly up from their seats, yelling and hugging. Tinka looks like she's about to combust as her tiny body hurls itself at Kathryn, while the gentlemen are shaking hands with Freddy and clapping him on the back with booming congratulations.

Everything is excitement and happiness and even though Regina knew in advance, the enthusiasm, exuding out of everyone in the room, bleeds out a little bit onto her. She's smiling and laughing as she takes it all in. And somewhere in the mix of it all, she catches Robin's eye and their eyes lock in a way that makes her go breathless. But the thing that really takes her breath away is the way Robin looks genuinely happy, the way his bright, beautiful blue eyes are lit up and his smile is as wide as it could possibly go. Even though he's surrounded by her friends—no,  _their_  friends—and he didn't really want to be here, he's actually enjoying himself.

Mission accomplished.

Of course, the night is young, but succeeding this early is success enough.

"Well, that explains the baggy clothes," Tinka jokes and everyone laughs. Regina hadn't even noticed Kathryn's wardrobe change, but it's apparent now that she's looking at her in her baggy button down maternity top and jeans.

Kathryn just sticks her tongue out at Tinka, then turns to Robin and hollers over the commotion to him, "Sorry to steal your birthday thunder Robin."

She's wincing playfully but he just shrugs it off. "Nah," he dismisses, "I'll just consider the good news as my first birthday gift," but his eyes flit over to Regina's, and he corrects himself with a wink, "or well, second."

Kathryn is making a face, Regina just knows it, so she doesn't dare look over at her friend.

But if she is, she must not linger because she is waving everyone away from her and saying, "Alright enough about me. Who wants food?"

Another commotion follows unsurprisingly because nothing can quite stop a room like the offerings of food. Everyone is moving, clamoring to the kitchen in a haphazard, but almost organized fashion. They all wordlessly form a line and Regina lingers in the back, watching Robin all the way at the front of the line, chatting brightly with Belle. She sees him crack a joke, making that silly face he makes when he does it, the one that just makes her heart skip a beat.

God, he's so cute.

She can't even be bothered that he's chatting with Belle, whom she'd thought would be a good match for Robin and might even have had the potential to be with him when she was being stubborn. Instead, she just watches him being adored by everyone in the room.

He remains the center of attention after everyone has gotten their food, too. Everyone's circled around him, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes. He's telling them about his brief stint in Los Angeles. Naturally, they all wanted to know if he'd seen any celebrities, which he had, though, "It was only a couple and it wasn't even that big of a deal." But it is to everyone else in the room. They're all enthralled with his stories, even Regina, who's listening intently and silently admiring the brightness of his aura and how it only burns brighter with each question about him.

That is, until someone asks him about why he left home. She thinks it was Killian but she's too busy, suddenly laser focused on Robin, whose aura is now starting to dim, wilting slowly beneath the shadow of the question asked. It's a sore subject, one he shouldn't have to get into on his birthday. Regina makes a mental note to kick Killian in the ass later if it was him. But, for now, she's more worried about protecting Robin from certain birthday ruining questions.

There's an awkward silence lingering over the conversation now and Regina panics. But thankfully, sometimes her mouth works faster than her brain and she spits out a witty, "For the American girls, obviously," which has all eyes turning to her. But her eyes stay locked on Robin, whose face breaks out into a goofy grin.

"'Fraid I can't argue with that one," he says, as he winks at her again.

"Eh, I dunno what's so special about 'em," Killian interjects, which earns him a slap to the stomach from his non-American girlfriend, and scoffs from all the other American women in the room. He tries to recover with a bashful, "Only joking."

Thankfully, Kathryn isn't Killian's biggest fan either, because she makes her disbelief in his apology apparent with a scoff, then changes the subject, leading things back to Robin, which Regina is grateful for tenfold.

"So, Robin, do you like Albuquerque? Are you happy at Blanchard Orchard? And don't just say yes because you're in a room full of several of its staff members."

Robin chuckles and glances over at Regina before quickly looking away, mostly trying not to bring attention to them (bless him). "I love it," he says, "my favorite place yet."

Regina clings to watching Kathryn, fighting every possible urge she has to look at Robin.

Kathryn smiles softly and she thinks she sees her mouth an  _I bet_  at him, and tip her head a hair in Regina's direction, but it's so subtle and quick that Regina can't be sure her eyes weren't just deceiving her.

Before she can decipher that, or even try to catch either of their attentions with a questioning glance, Tinka is asking if he's planning to make the place a permanent home, to which he gives a firm  _yes_. And this time their eyes are drawn together like a magnet, snapping in place effortlessly. Regina supposes that she often tried not to think about the possibility of Robin just up and leaving if he ever felt like it, but the question creates a new pang of anxiety in her stomach as it takes root, despite his affirmation.

She hopes he means it.

Someone cracks a joke about all the pretty American girls left to see, resulting in a chorus of slaps to the chuckling men in the room from their respective female counterparts. But Robin once again makes a pointed comment about him taking a break from sight-seeing the ladies and even more of America itself. He wants to settle for a bit, maybe see where this venture takes him.

Regina knows that comment is for her, too, even though Robin is no longer looking at her. Regina can physically feel the neon sign being hung above her head. Robin must notice Regina squirm a little in her seat, as the realization washes over her, because he says after a beat or two of silence, "Alright you lot, enough about me, tell me how you all came to work at the school."

Regina takes a breath of relief as the conversation slips easily into one about their colleges, and horror stories of long-term sub jobs some of them had taken before getting to Blanchard Orchard. She relaxes and willingly participates when she has something to interject. Even Killian, John, Jack and Frederick weave their own stories into the conversation, carrying them all far, far away from Robin's hints at their relationship.

That goes over for a good while. They all chat, eat the majority of the finger foods Kathryn made for the celebration, and drink several glasses of wine, whiskey or beer. She's pretty sure they're all good and buzzed by the time Kathryn suggests it's time to play some games.

Tinka throws her vote for Cards Against Humanity in immediately, but Kathryn shoots her down, citing that they should all be a little more drunk for that and they all reluctantly agree.

Except Tinka who sasses her with, "And what is your grand idea, oh great one?"

Kathryn just grins and stands, facing everyone and announcing, "The time honored classic: charades," which receives a couple groans, but a majority of indifference.

Kathryn takes it as general acceptance and claps her hands together in executive fashion. "Alright! Let's partner up!" she barks at them, but before anyone can scramble around the room to select partners, Kathryn is turning to Robin and saying a bit more softly, "Okay birthday boy, you pick first. And I'll just throw my hat in the ring and say, I'm one hell of a charades player," adding a wink to the end of her sentence.

Robin chuckles humbly and glances around the room. When his eyes inevitably land on Regina's, she feels her heart catch roughly in her throat. Part of her wants him to pick her, but the other part is wordlessly begging him not to because she knows it will inevitably incite relentless badgering from her friends. Then again, they did show up together and besides John, she's the closest thing he's got to a  _close_  friend in the room. So, she resolves herself to letting him pick her, she can fend off Kathryn and Tinka's sneering glances and passing comments for awhile.

But just as she steels her resolve, Robin's eyes pass from hers and land on the person adjacent to her: Belle. And just as his eyes land on her, her name falls purposefully from his lips and Regina feels her face fall hard in response. There's a delayed sting in her chest, too, that comes once she realizes with full confidence that Robin chose someone else and that someone else is walking over to sit by his side.

She wants to kick herself for it, wants to tell herself to get a grip and not read so damn deeply into it. But instead she feels her whole body tense up, her spine straightens, her head tips upward and her lips draw into a firm line. She doesn't want to, she wants to remain as relaxed as possible and maintain the illusion that she doesn't care, but her reaction is visceral and involuntary, making it impossible to seem like his choice doesn't matter.

No one appears to notice, though, because Kathryn is quick on Robin's heels with claiming Frederick as her partner (no surprise there), then Tinka and Killian right behind her, and John and Jack wrapping up the succession, leaving Regina and Maggie, who awkwardly make eye contact and each give a silent nod toward the other in agreement of partnership.

Still, no one pays Regina any mind, as Kathryn rises and passes out pieces of paper to each person, instructing them to write down 10 movie or tv show titles (and not show their partner, of course), then fold up each piece, and place them in the bowl on the coffee table.

When Kathryn hands Regina her 10 scraps of paper, she just stares down at them dumbly for a few minutes. She doesn't really want to think about movies and tv shows, can't really conjure them up anyway when she is driven to distraction by the intimate chatter going on across from her, which is amplified when Belle tips her head back and laughs at something Robin says to her.

Regina tries her best to return her focus to the pieces of paper and tenaciously reminds herself that she is not a jealous woman and that she has nothing to be jealous of, but her mind is racing away with little regard for her mental speed limits.

It isn't until Maggie leans over to Regina and whispers a tender, "Are you okay?" that she tries to scale back and relax.

"I'm fine," she answers shortly, despite her best efforts to appear fine.

"He talks about you a lot, y'know," Maggie says matter-of-factly, as if that was the direction that their conversation was going.

It throws Regina for a second, making her stumble a bit on her words, but she manages to stutter out a weak, "Who?"

Maggie doesn't look in Regina's direction, or up from her paper at all, as she replies with an annoyed, "You know who."

The poor woman doesn't know Regina well enough to know that her tone is enough action for war, but Regina bites her tongue and takes the sass. Getting into an argument with Maggie about it won't do her any favors, especially in a room full of people. But it does get Regina into thinking about how many people in the room know about her and Robin, or at least, have an inkling about them. Kathryn essentially knows, which most likely means that Frederick knows, John probably knows (she isn't certain, but she wouldn't be surprised) and his girlfriend may too, Tinka has an inkling and she knows that Maggie knows  _something_ thanks to her big mouth. Perhaps the sneaking is a waste, they're the worst kept secret in existence.

But, that doesn't dissuade Regina from wanting to keep the blissfully ignorant bubble that they currently have. Though, that bubble may be on the verge of popping now and gravity will pull her harshly to the ground as Belle's stupid bubble swoops in and catches Robin in the fall. She needs to get a grip and stop being so ridiculous. They were literally just making out in his apartment a couple of hours ago. He only picked Belle because Regina had stupidly made it clear that she wanted to make it look like they were friends and nothing else.

Regina's, "He's a really good guy," doesn't exactly have anything to do with Maggie's comment, but she thinks it's vague enough that it won't let Maggie in on anything she may not already know.

But Maggie comes back with a predictable, "Yes, he is, so don't break his heart," and this time she looks up at Regina and locks eyes with her challengingly, as if she's daring Regina to break his heart right now in front of everyone.

Regina should just stay quiet and not entertain Maggie's assumptions, but she can't resist saying, "Not my intention."

"Good," Maggie whispers with a nod, passing a glance over at Robin, who's stopped talking and is more focused on his task. Regina takes a second to just watch him as he sits there stumped, eyes cast heavenward and mouth fixed in a pensive frown, but Maggie recalls her attention, "But, you're more than welcome to kick his ass, so write down some good ones and get your game face on, Mills."

That slaps a smirk right on Regina's face and she nods dutifully toward the other woman. At least, she's competitive like Regina, so they should get along well for this game.

Regina takes a minute to think of some of her favorite movies, she decides to avoid tv shows because she doesn't watch many and she's sure someone else in the room will write down Game of Thrones. Her first pick is Notting Hill because she's a sucker for sappy Julia Robert's films and that's her prerogative. She decides to add Pretty Woman as well because it's easy and also a favorite.

Everything else she keeps coming up with is probably not widely viewed by the majority of the guests, like Sense and Sensibility, for example. Notting Hill leads her in the direction of Hugh Grant and it's the first thing that pops in her head, though he does have other great movies (Two Weeks Notice, Love Actually, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Bridget Jones' Diary) and she should be writing one of those down but her first thought goes to the incredibly unappreciated Jane Austen film adaptation. Everyone always goes for Pride and Prejudice, not that they shouldn't, because it's an excellent story, but Sense and Sensibility speaks to her in a different way. Something about Elinor's quiet but deep affection for Mr. Ferrars paralleling alongside Colonel Brandon's loyal and moving love for Marianne makes her feel like maybe all hope isn't lost on her just because she isn't as openly expressive about her feelings.

So, to hell with it, she's going to write it down. Hopefully, she'll draw it, or maybe Kathryn, who's also seen it. But for good measure, she also jots down Bridget Jones' Diary because it's a favorite and she knows both Kathryn and Tinka have seen it. She snubs Two Weeks Notice for While You Were Sleeping, the better Sandra Bullock film of the two, in her opinion.

The rest of her choices are based on things she believes the others have seen: Forrest Gump, Pulp Fiction, The Princess Bride. Then, she throws in Gone with the Wind, just to sneak in one more quality choice of hers, and finally lands on her last scrap of paper. She wants it to be good, because it's her last choice, not that anyone will know that, but still.

She scans around the room. Most people have finished, her partner included, but there's still Kathryn and John's girlfriend who are contemplatively staring down at their pieces of paper.

She tries her hardest not to look at Robin but he makes it incredibly difficult when she finds that he's already looking at her. The second their eyes lock and he begins to crack a smile, Regina casts her eyes away and back down to her paper like she's in middle school. She can feel her face heat and her chest tighten. Why is she being like this? Him choosing Belle was a totally innocent coincidence.

But it should be her anyway. If she'd just stop caging hers—  _oh_.

Caging. Robin. How could she have forgotten the one film he'll know she wrote down, (unless he also writes it down, in which case, he may just think it's his)? But, if he sees her handwriting, then he'll know it's from her. It'll be their little secret, their little moment.

As long as he and Belle don't win and she can't whisk him away.

That's ridiculous. She's being ridiculous.

But nevermind it now, she's determined to kick his ass, if not for anything other than being competitive and slightly because she wants to get back at him for choosing another partner.

She scrawls Breakfast at Tiffany's on her last piece of paper and rises to place them in the bowl. She's the last one to put hers in, springing Kathryn into action. Kathryn shakes the bowl a couple of times to mix up the offerings, as she waltzes over to the fireplace and sets it down on the mantle.

When she turns back to everyone she says, "Alright Robin, you're the birthday boy, you go first."

Robin nods and shuffles over to the bowl, reaching in and pulling out a scrap before smiling to himself and asks Kathryn if she's ready with the timer.

Kathryn doesn't say anything other than a barked  _go!_  as she jabs her finger onto her phone.

Sure enough, Robin's very first pick is Game of Thrones. It takes Belle several seconds to figure it out, but she manages to blurt the correct answer before the timer goes off.

Point one for Robin and Belle, who high five and cheer for each other, sending another jealous zing through Regina's body.

The jealousy spurs her to get up and declare that she and Maggie want to go next, which startles Robin and Belle out of their victorious bubble, but no one objects.

Her pull is for Jerry Maguire, something that would be easy to give away if she could say, "You had me at hello," or "You complete me," or even, "SHOW ME THE MONEY," but she's left to just pretend to throw a football and try to silently reenact Jerry and Dorothy's big romantic moment.

It comes as no surprise that Maggie is unable to identify the film title, denying them of any points or victorious high-fiving. She could kick whomever put that one in the bowl. How are you supposed to describe a romantic sports movie when there are about 97 million of them out there?

But there's nothing she can do about it, except accept defeat and return to her partner who looks terribly apologetic for not guessing correctly. Regina tries to play it off and act like she isn't bothered in the slightest, but doesn't really say anything when she takes her seat and can feel herself start to brood.

She has a harder time focusing on the game after that, especially because it picks up with impeccable speed. They go round after round without much pause, save the few times one person would need to refill their glass or one of the titles spurred a conversation. They go through four of the Star Wars movies, someone pulls Game of Thrones again (which does elicit conversation and a murmured snarky comment from Regina about how many people wrote down the TV title), several rom-coms, and every action packed superhero movie in existence. Robin and Belle are in first, with Regina and Maggie trailing behind them by one point.

She's thankful when Kathryn suggests a break to refill drinks and grab some more food, because Regina is becoming overwhelmingly stressed and more heated than when the game began. She decides to get up and refill her wine glass following the suggestion—it's a good chance to stretch her legs and to get out of the microcosm they've built in the living room. But, it's her fourth glass of the evening and she's starting to feel a little wobbly in the knees and her thoughts are beginning to haze together just slightly. Not to mention, she hasn't eaten much in terms of food to beverage ratio and knows that this drink might begin to really tip her over the edge.

She considers only getting half a glass but, she isn't really adept at caring in this exact moment and fills her glass well past what is probably acceptable, while vowing that she is going to drink the whole damn thing.

"Can I get some of that?" she hears that soft, smooth, honey-like British voice behind her.

Apparently, her drunk self is erring on the side of bitter and mean drunk tonight because she spits back with a cool, "You have two hands."

He'd told her once when they'd first started running into each other that she was a mean drunk, which she's sure she indignantly and vehemently denied, but perhaps he'd been right, because, now, she's standing in her friend's kitchen being a bit of a bitch to Robin for an entirely different reason than the one she had many, many months ago when they met.

"So nice of you to notice," he shoots back jokingly, flashing a dorky smile and inadvertently swelling Regina's rage.

"If you're taking  _that_  has a compliment, then you have incredibly low standards," she jabs, refusing to look at him.

Robin chuckles and looks around to make sure no one is watching—thankfully, it's just them—before moving toward her and dropping his voice low, "Well, I was hoping you noticed because you were thinking about what these hands can do."

It's smooth. Very smooth. And it irks Regina that much more because she's a little tipsy and grumpy and she's not going to give into his cute charm, even if it is his birthday.

So, she gives into the bitterness coursing through her veins to turn, cap the bottle, and respond with a terse, "Hope one of those things is opening a bottle because it appears I've just capped it on accident," then shoves the bottle into his torso and saunters past him.

Regina has to fight every impulse, telling her to look back at Robin. She knows she shouldn't be acting this petulant on his birthday, but she realizes it too late, as she walks back into the living room like the brief encounter didn't just happen.

Robin walks in a few seconds after her, looking dumbfounded and very confused. He immediately seeks out Regina and tries to catch her eye, while she childishly turns to Kathryn, who's talking to Jack (undoubtedly about pregnant life), and says, "Isn't it your turn?"

Robin chimes in, though, with a weak, "I have to piss," drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

Regina thinks Kathryn is just about to give him directions to the bathroom, when Robin cuts her off, "Regina, can  _you_  show me the loo?"

"Do you need a map drawn for you?" she asks dryly, trying to avoid the looks of everyone else in the room.

"Regina," Kathryn hisses, placing a hand over her stomach and making sure to give Regina a certain death glare no one really wants to be on the other end of, "can you  _please_  show Robin the restroom?"

Regina hesitates momentarily before groaning and rising from her seat. She snaps at Kathryn once she's standing, "Do you want me to hold his hand, too?"

There's a littering of snickers through the group, which instantly becomes full-blown laughter, as Killian murmurs, "Or you could hold something else," and makes a gesture, which she can only guess is meant to symbolize jacking off.

"Excuse me?" Regina answers indignantly, while trying to remain some semblance of cool.

"Ah, c'mon we all know you could both use it. Don't make the poor man do all the  _hand_ iwork on his own," Killian slurs and there are a few more snickers.

" _You're_  about to only have one hand if you keep at it," Regina fires back. So much for cool.

Everyone laughs again, and even harder, when Killian responds with a crass, "One hand is all I need."

"You're drunk," Regina scoffs condescendingly, as if that's meant to be an insult—they're all a little drunk.

"And you're a stuck up bitch," he counters, standing up with a bit of a wobble.

The comment garners several defensive cries, but it's Robin who makes an actual move. He steps in front of Regina and faces a palm to Killian.

"Alright, mate," Robin says softly, "that's enough."

"Look, man, I'm just trying to get you laid."

Robin lets out an empty chuckle, "Don't need your help."

Tinka gasps behind Killian and Regina realizes that Robin just insinuated that they are sleeping together. Regina passes a glance from Tinka to Killian and can physically feel herself shrinking into Robin's back.

But the gentle touch of his elbow against her arm grounds her, as he shoots his own arm out to recover his comment.

"What I meant was," he flounders, "I'm not trying, so your help isn't needed, nor wanted."

It stings a little even though Regina understands that Robin is lying for her sake and not actually meaning the words coming out of his mouth. But when his arm settles a little more firmly into hers and drags her attention upwards to his face, any remnants of doubt fade away.

His eyes are soft and sweet, accenting his kind, dimpled smile, and melting her into nothing as he says, "I respect Regina and whatever she wants, and should she ever change her mind on what she wants, then I trust she's capable of letting me know."

She could kiss him. Right here. Right now. She could just  _kiss him_  for that.

But her little bubble is popped as soon as Killian scoffs, building the diffusing tension right back up to where it was. "Please," he slurs, "Regina wouldn't know how to express her feelings if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. Hell, I'm sure most of her friends in this room don't even know if she really cares about them, because that's what Regina does best, uses and abuses people as she sees fit, but doesn't give a damn about the consequences."

"Killian," Tinka murmurs gently behind him, grabbing his wrist, but he swats her away and turns on her.

"Don't," he huffs out wetly and it takes Regina a moment to realize that he's on the verge of tears.

"Don't do that. I'd say, you know I'm right, but she's brainwashed you to be just like her. It's why we're not together, yeah? Because she planted all those seeds of doubt in your head about how I'm a bad guy, all because she and I fucked some ages ago and because she can't stand looking like the bloody bad guy, so she puts it off on me."

Regina freezes, everyone in the room does. She's not sure if everyone just doesn't know how to react, or if they're all still processing what Killian said. All those revelations are hard to swallow in one fell swoop.

She knows that she needs to be the one to confront it all, especially about her and Killian's past dalliance, but the first thing that comes out of her mouth is, "You're not together anymore?"

Killian chuckles brusquely to himself, wobbling a little in place. "She didn't tell you? Oh yeah, we split up a week or so ago, but then you invited us both to this stupid party and Tink just dreaded going it alone, so she called and begged for this one favor, sit and pretend to be her boyfriend for a few hours, and I thought, sure why not, there'll be booze, I can make it through, but I forgot what I'm dealing with when it comes to you lot. It's exactly why I thank the heavens you and I never became anything more than quick fuck here and there."

Regina can feel a little pinch at the 'quick fuck,' and she wants to say something, but Robin beats her to the punch, stepping further in front of her and saying, "Alright, mate, really now, that's enough."

Killian just scoffs again, and stumbles over to Robin until their nearly toe to toe. There's a bitter glint in his eyes and Regina can see the prick of each word before they even come out of his mouth.

"I feel so sorry for you,  _mate_ ," he spits the sentiment, "you think you're so different and that you're really going to have it different, but you're just like anyone who's come before you and they'll treat you just the same. Especially that one," he nods to Regina, "she's got you right where she wants you."

Robin doesn't flinch, and instead, just rests a palm calmly on Killian's chest, "Listen, man, I'm sorry that things didn't work out for you, but don't take it out on Regina, alright? You've had a touch too much to drink, why don't we just take a walk?"

"Don't fucking patronize me," Killian snaps, knocking Robin's hand away, "you know I'm right. Regina takes whatever she wants and she'll do the same thing to you. You're just another warm body to her, just someone to take up space in her bed, and then she'll throw you away just like every man before you."

Regina sees Robin's jaw clench hard, but she's lucky her attention is drawn elsewhere to his fist, because she sees it ball up just in time to scurry behind him and grab his arm before he swings it. Robin startles a little and snaps his gaze to hers when she grabs his wrist.

She doesn't say anything but just gives him a tender smile, before glancing down at their hands.  _Her_  hand skims down lower and carefully eases open his harshly clenched fist until his fingers are loose and spaced out, leaving enough room for her fingers to fit in between, lacing them together easily and following it all with a little squeeze, which Robin reciprocates.

It takes her a minute to glance up at him, and even longer to look around at all the expectant faces, trying to understand the scene in front of them. But Regina can't be bothered to worry about them in this exact moment. This isn't about them. This isn't even for her own jealous heart. This is for the man beside her. Not just because it's his birthday (which will probably go down as another disaster but she tried her best) but because she genuinely cares about him and isn't about to let Killian Jones convince him otherwise.

She opens her mouth to say something but she realizes no amount of public declaration is going to make Killian's words unreliable. She falters for a second, unsure exactly of what to do, but she can't just let it be.

So, she decides to just stop thinking and just do. She turns 90 degrees to face him, giving him another gentle, heartfelt smile before sliding both palms against the scruff along his jawline and gently pulling his head downward to hers. He submits, allowing her to carefully tug him down until her lips whisper softly against his and she can feel the beginnings of a smile before she chases it away with a kiss.

He doesn't hesitate to kiss her back, but they don't deepen it past shallow, yet intimate, kisses because they both know they're in front of company. (Plus, Regina still isn't a big fan of PDA and this is no exception—well, it is, a minor one, but it doesn't entirely erase her stance on the matter.) She's just proving a point, and that point involves a little smooching. But that's as far as she lets it go. After a minute or two, she parts and locks eyes with him, relishing in that starstruck twinkle in his eye.

But Regina gets serious. "You know what he said isn't true," she says, though, there's a question buried inside of it.

Robin nods, hesitantly cracks a small smile.

"Good," Regina whispers and returns the smile. "What are you doing right now?"

Robin is visibly confused, but nevertheless answers, "Er, nothing?"

"Excellent, would you like to go on a date with me, then?"

Robin tries to perpetuate his confusion, but the smile that's spreading across his face like an egg cracked on to a plate sells him out. "Now?" he asks with a laugh in his voice.

Regina nods this time. "Right now," she says, "what do you say?"

The smile finally consumes him and Regina can feel her heart beat a little harder in her chest.

"I'd say I have a bit of time on my hands, so I'd love to," he murmurs between them, making Regina grin, mirroring his vibrant and exuberant one.

It's as short-lived as the kisses, though, because Regina turns to Kathryn to thank her for setting up the party and helping her plan all of this. But she doesn't even get a word out when she turns to her friend because she immediately gets the direction,  _go_ , and Regina doesn't even hesitate one second to follow it.

She grabs Robin's hand with her right and pulls her phone out with her left to order an Uber. Then, they're out the door and on their way, leaving the mess behind.

[:]

They make haste when they bolt from Kathryn's, wasting no time when the Uber gets there. Regina requested to go to her favorite restaurant, known for its assortment of award-winning steaks, but remains her favorite because of the mouthwatering rosemary lemon chicken served with their grilled radicchio, which she could practically kill for. And, of course, it's no surprise that that's what she orders when prompted. Robin gets a ribeye with the eggplant fries that she insists are much more delicious than they sound. He also suggests a bottle for the table, but Regina declines, citing that she's had more than her fair share of wine and even though it's only 9:30 and she's planning to eat the majority of her meal, another bottle will do her in.

He obliges and gets himself a glass of whiskey and her a small glass of chardonnay.

Then they're left to their own devices. They both dither on who should speak first but Robin manages to brave it… and fails miserably.

"So," he clears his throat awkwardly, which Regina notes how absolutely adorable that is, "tell me about your childhood."

Regina sucks in a sharp breath and makes a face that she knows will reveal she isn't keen about the topic, which she thinks he realizes anyway as soon as he gets it out of his mouth.

He winces apologetically and adds a verbal apology as well, "Sorry, should've thought that bit through before I shoved my sodding foot in my mouth."

Regina just chuckles and reaches for his hand, threading their fingers together easily.

"It's okay," she whispers softly, as she trails her thumb up and down his forefinger. "It's a reasonable thing to ask. Our pasts mold us into who we are. It's okay to be curious."

"Was there any part of your childhood you enjoyed?"

Regina's heart clenches at the answer her mind jumps to. Still, she tells him anyway, as a gesture of good faith. "Of course I did. Horseback riding with my dad, watching him mind our little vineyard, hanging out with Mal, and even sometimes with my parents together."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Regina answers nostalgically, "I specifically remember this one night when I was, I think, twelve. My parents let me stay home by myself for the first time because Daddy was going to take Mother out to this dancing class she'd been dying to go to for years. So, they let me stay home, told me I had to finish my homework before I could watch TV. But after they left I went outside and rode Rocinante for about an hour and broke my record, which had gotten me a medal the year before.

"Anyway," she swats at the air, "when they came home, I was sitting on the couch, pretending to be asleep when they came in, and they were so happy and giggly, and my father was twirling my mother all over the living room. And I just remember her shushing him and telling him not to wake me, but he didn't listen and she still didn't get angry. She just laughed and went along with it and then eventually Daddy carried me to bed and I could still hear them giggling after they'd put me to bed. It's one of my happiest memories of them. I mean, the next day my mother was back to being the colossal bitch that she is, but for one night it was nice."

"That's a wonderful story," Robin muses peacefully.

God, his smile so is genuinely beautiful and his eyes— he's perfect. This is perfect, everything is perfect. Not even the usual crippling anxiety that comes with discussing Phoenix can get in the way. And she realizes with an odd twist in her belly that it hasn't. Usually, that story would have something churning deep in her gut, making her sick and uncomfortable. But for once, the happy story is just that—a happy story.

This could be dangerous, letting someone in bit by bit and getting comfortable with them. That false sense of security could lead to her telling him what she did. But she knows—hopes—the logical part of her will override her feelings. She can't tell him, it'll ruin everything.

In fact, if she keeps thinking about it tonight, it could start ruining things now. So, she's just going to stuff that in the back of her mind where it belongs and pay it no mind while it withers and dies back there

Thankfully, the food arrives, as she's digesting her thoughts and organizing them in a way she likes. Perfect opportunity to change the subject.

"So," Regina sighs with a hint of a chuckle, and sips her wine after the waiter leaves, "What about your childhood?"

"Oh, it was rubbish," he dismisses with a wave of his hand.

Regina just laughs. "That's it? That's all you're going to give me? I mean, that's fine, of course. But you're more than welcome to share with me."

"I appreciate that," he tells her with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Regina shakes her head and makes an executive decision that a moratorium is going on conversing their pasts. Instead, they switch to lighter conversations, mostly about work, things they're planning to do for their classes, how their students are doing (time, which is mostly spent on the Cassidy boys, who are still big concerns for both of them), and complaining about some of David's school-wide initiatives.

By the time they get down that winding path of conversation, the waiter is returning and asking about dessert, which Regina is usually quick to turn down. She never had dessert with Graham, or frankly anyone ever. But she wants to enjoy the hell out of tonight so she's going to order dessert, laugh at some more of Robin's jokes, flirt some more with him and then get him to take her home, or at least, let  _her_  take  _him_  home.

When she gives that awkward considering look to Robin that many couples share after being asked the dessert question, he seems to be of the same mind because there's a kind of hopeful look in his eyes, and she doesn't think that it's because he really wants the cheesecake. They end up settling on a yes vote and get tiramisu because they both like it and it's light.

The waiter returns with it in under ten minutes along with the check, which Regina tries to grab but is still bested by her date.

"Y'know, technically  _I_  asked  _you_  out on this date, so  _technically_  I should be paying," Regina reminds him with a smirk.

"Well, I don't play by the rules, so sorry," he answers with an equally smug expression, placing the bill in his lap where it's out of reach for Regina.

She's got half a mind to get a little frisky and run her leg up and down his and get him to give it up but she abstains, and instead, focuses on the tiramisu.

They fall silent for a moment, save the tandem moans they let out when they take their first bites together. Regina loves tiramisu, but she's also incredibly picky with it, but this one? This one meets her qualifications just fine.

But once they fall silent, Regina decides to take advantage of it to discuss and apologize for everything that had happened earlier.

"So," Regina hums, forking another piece of the dessert off, "I'm sorry if the whole Killian thing put a damper on the evening. I really didn't think our miniscule time together would ever matter or ever come up. He always seemed as keen about burying it as I was, but I guess that makes me pretty stupid for thinking it would never come out."

"Hey," he chides softly, placing his hand back on the table, open-palmed and reaching for hers, "you are not stupid."

"I know," she frowns, putting her hand in his and letting him give her a gentle squeeze, "but I still feel horrible for putting a dent in your birthday."

"Nonsense, it's okay," he shakes his head in an attempt to nose away the worries filling her up. "Still the best birthday I've ever had. 'Sides, the whole public display of your love for me kinda undid all the mental trauma of imagining you two together anyway."

Regina fights a smile, but it's ever present in her voice. "Shut up," she says playfully.

Robin struggles with a smile of his own and Regina knows what he's thinking without him uttering a single word. She chuckles, says, "If you say  _make me_ , I'm getting up from this table right now."

"Someone's an eager beaver," he teases, even though she knows that  _he_  knows that is not what she meant.

"And someone is pressing their luck," she volleys back flirtatiously.

Robin does this thing where his eyes darken just so and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips, giving Regina that telling scrape against the hollow bottom of her gut. It's a tease and she knows it, but she refuses to let him have all the fun, so she mirrors that same look and maybe she takes her time wetting her lips, and maybe she pushes out her breasts.

It works, too, because Robin whispers a gentle  _fuck_  just before the waiter returns to get the check.

While he's gone, Regina makes sure to have the purest, most unadulterated eye sex with the man sitting across from her, while mentally trying to calm the chaotic butterflies in her stomach.

It's silent, deadly, but so thrilling and is doing things to her body, things she's more than ready to let him take care of, but she's trying her best to play coy for a little while longer, make the wait worth it. That doesn't mean she doesn't have any preconceived notions about where this night is headed. Oh god, she hopes it's headed where she thinks it is.

Their waiter returns, bids them goodnight and Robin is more than eager, it seems, to get out of there. At least, they're on the same page.

They make their way outside to wait for their Uber, and they've barely made it out the door before Robin's arms are wrapping warmly around her waist. His hands lock at the base of her spine, while hers take place behind his neck.

It's a little chilly out but Regina can barely tell because of the heated spark dancing all around them. She's warm and malleable in his hold, her whole body just melding effortlessly into his. And she's happy, genuinely happy in this exact moment.

Why aren't they kissing right now? Her eyes dart down to his lips and she licks hers on impulse.

"Hey," Robin murmurs, drawing her eyes up just a little, as he tells her, "really, thank you for tonight. It's better than I could've hoped for."

Regina smiles softly and tightens her grip on him. "Happy birthday, Robin," she answers, then lifts up on her toes and finally presses their lips together.

She's glad they had that tiramisu because he tastes just like coffee and chocolate, and it makes it that much better. But despite the subtle throbbing between her legs, Regina tries to maintain a steady and polite balance with their kisses. They are still in public after all. Though, she doesn't particularly care too greatly about how people are viewing her right now.

Everything is so soft and warm and perfect. And she thinks she might just be falling a bit in love. She's not in love with him, of course. Not yet. But this just might be the beginning of it all, and she is helpless to stop it.

Nor does she want to.

[:]

Their Uber finally arrived after giving them a few successions of seven minutes in heaven, not that that she really cared. The wait was worth it, after all.

They're quiet in the car and just play with each other's hands while the Uber driver just stays silent and takes them back to Robin's place.

She's thankful that John texted Robin that he and Jack were going back to Jack's apartment, giving them the privacy they need. When they reach the door, they stand outside it just briefly, studying over one another, wordlessly trying to agree on what to do next. Regina knows what she wants without a doubt. She's certainly more than ready to go inside, accidentally drop her dress to the floor, and jump Robin's bones like there's no tomorrow.

Robin seems to be of the same mind because he's eyeing her hungrily, sweeping his gaze from side to side all over her body. Though, he does take a second to linger on her breasts, which she pushes out, filling up her lungs just enough to have her chest swelling and making Robin murmur a curse. She takes it as permission to step closer to him, closing that gap to press her chest against him. His arms loop around her on instinct, one drawing slowly around her waist, while the other ventures not-so-politely to her ass. He gives it a little squeeze, making her arch into him.

But Regina is still busy trying to familiarize herself with every inch of Robin, admiring the way his eyes pop against his tight, dark blue button down, which nicely clings to every curvature of his torso. Suddenly, she's very grateful for the few buttons that he'd left undone. She itches to put her tongue in that open V, knows she will before the night ends.

Her tongue peeks out at the thought, wetting her lips, like she's about to feast like never before.

Robin must take it as his cue to make a move because one second he's looking at her and the next his lips are on hers, kissing her more fiercely than he ever has, fingers getting themselves lost in her hair and body pushing impossibly closer to her.

Regina answers with a moan into his mouth, doesn't concern herself with chaste kisses. Her tongue is in his mouth almost immediately, seeking his out and tangling with it, getting that warm taste of whiskey she missed.

She loves it, is nearly addicted to the taste of him.

She pushes him lightly, back against the door as a little nudge that she's ready to go inside. There's more to do than heady kisses outside is apartment door. Thankfully, it works because he's fumbling with the knob behind him, as soon as his back comes into contact with the door, while he still tries to wrestle tongues with her.

He gets flustered trying to stick the key in properly to get it unlocked, making her smile a bit against his kisses.

Regina skillfully drags one hand from his shoulders, trailing it down blindly until she settles on his fist. "Kiss my neck," she tells him as she gently coaxes the keys from his hand.

He's more than happy to oblige, handing over the keys willingly and taking his lips to her neck. She can't stop the moan she releases when he sucks that one spot beneath the apex of her jaw, almost drops the keys because of it. Fuck, she nearly can't focus, she's so turned on. She thinks she should be concerned with how turned on she already is, how slick she feels between her thighs as she finally turns the lock and starts to walk again.

But she doesn't care, couldn't possibly care in this moment, all she wants is to jump Robin's bones, wants him naked and on top of her, wants him panting her name in her ear.

They're back in his apartment, she can tell by the sudden drop in temperature. She hadn't really noticed how cold it was before they'd left, but now she's acutely aware because she can already feel her nipples getting harder.

Her  _nipples_ , she wants him to touch her nipples, wants those firm hands on her nipples, that mouth—fuck her dress needs to come off.

But she doesn't get to because Robin is talking as he steers them to the couch. "Today was so wonderful. You're wonderful, so bloody wonderful. I've thought about kissing you all night, doing other things with you all night. I jus—"

"Robin," she murmurs against his lips, interrupting him, "stop talking."

She puts enough distance between them until her eyes can lock onto his, strong and unrelenting. Her mouth curls into a wicked smile and she drops her voice low, to an almost whisper, "And do those other things with me."

His head draws back further and he blinks. "Yeah?" he asks breathlessly.

Regina's hands tug at the hem of his shirt. "Yes,  _please_ ," she whines, "now take this off."

"Well, when you put it so politely," he jests, pulling another laugh out of Regina.

He doesn't argue, at all, just lifts his arms like he had the night of Halloween—oh, she should have done this on Halloween. Should've gotten him naked, should've done all the dirty things with him. But they were right not to. She wasn't in a good headspace. In fact, she was distraught and worried for her mother's sake. Having sex then would've been bad, or at least, very ill-timed. But now nothing is holding them back. Nothing is stopping her from pressing kisses to each patch of skin that becomes visible with each button he undoes. Nothing is stopping her from laving her tongue across his collarbone as her arms scale up his chest and gently push the fabric off of his shoulders.

When the shirt is off, she pecks everywhere while her hands scour every inch that her lips aren't touching. It's awkward, though, her neck will undoubtedly start hurting. They need to sit, so that she can touch more, feel more, kiss more. She guides him more quickly toward the couch, still trying her best to place kisses where she can.

She waits until she hears the resounding thud of his legs and his hissed  _ow!_  before she braves the separation long enough for him to fall back on the couch. But the minute her hands and lips are free of him she aches painfully, misses the warmth of him, the taste of him.

Except, her head is filled with other surreptitious ideas and they involve a lot of teasing. Regina grins wickedly at him and revels in the way his eyes are scoping her out again.

She wants him to keep looking at her like that, but she draws his attention from her body up to her face when she sings, "Robinnn," as she kicks off her shoes, and he answers with a mused  _hmmm_ , not paying a lick of attention and probably undressing her with his eyes.

"Did you have a good birthday?" she asks, batting her eyelashes coquettishly and feeling ridiculous for it, but, whatever, it is his birthday after all.

Robin licks his lips and nods eagerly, like a man being asked to his own private Victoria's Secret lingerie party.

Regina bites on her lip, as she struts to him, and she realizes then how unbelievably nervous she is. Her legs are wobbly, her gait sloppy, her hands shaky. She can't remember the last time she was nervous about sex with a man. God, it was probably Daniel. She doesn't think she can recall a single other time that made her heart beat as quickly as it is now.

She doesn't know if they're going to have sex. They haven't really talked about it. But, at this rate, she thinks they've passed the possibility of talking about it because if they go anywhere  _near_  where her mind has wandered since this began, they are, without a doubt, having sex tonight.

And she wants to. She  _really_  wants to, wants to feel him pushing inside her, wants to come on his cock, wants it all.

So, she chokes her nerves back, tries her best not to think too much. In fact, she wants to stop thinking altogether.

Best way to do that is to put her eye on the prize, an orgasm (at least) for the both of them.

Regina stops short of the couch and uses the chance to gain her composure. She turns her back to him, and takes a breath, then peeks over her shoulder, wearing that naughty smile once more and says to him, "Wanna make it better?"

Robin nods eagerly once more before Regina instructs him to undo the zipper of the dress.

He does as he's told reaching up and pulling carefully on the little piece of metal. He drags the zipper down painstakingly slow, but stops just below the top of her spine.

She turns awkwardly to him, cracking her back in the process, which cracks a bit of the tension between them—it's so quiet. They laugh for a second or two before getting back to business.

"Come down here and sit on my lap," he urges quietly, patting his knee.

Regina nods and descends, perching herself carefully on the edge of his lap, but that isn't what Robin wants and he instructs her to sit all the way back in his lap. She smiles to herself and wriggles her ass backward until her backside is nearly flush against his front, but she finds herself distracted when her thigh touches the bulge in his pants. He's already hard for her and she instantly regrets not situating herself so that her clit is resting on top of the bulge.

She regrets it even more when Robin's voice is in her ear, spilling his warm breath all over her neck and igniting a pop of electricity all over her lower half.

"Don't take this off before you get up, I want to see those glorious tits when they're revealed, but I wanted to have a bit of fun first," he whispers, sending a shiver down her spine.

Robin goes back to unzipping the dress, but now he's doing as she did before with him, swirling his tongue playfully across the skin that he uncovers with each pull of the zipper. Regina moans softly with each stroke of his tongue and the urge to touch herself is stronger than ever.

"Robin," she breathes, "I need—"

"What is it?" he murmurs.

She grabs the hand that's not toying with her zipper, and has actually been groping at her breast this whole time. Her hand leads his, trailing carefully down her ribs, her stomach, down to her thigh, where he gropes hungrily and pulls another moan out of her. But her thigh isn't where she wants him. She takes his hand again and leads her closer to the warm heat between her thighs. He understands, then, pressing fingers to her pantyclad sex.

"Fuck," he curses softly into her shoulder, "I can't wait to feel how truly wet you are."

She wants that, too, wants him to feel how wet she is, how wet he makes her.

Still, he doesn't stick his hands down her panties without permission, and instead, presses two fingers to her panties, trying to give a little pressure to her clit and she is grateful.  _So fucking grateful_. She moans again at the pressure as he slowly starts to rub tiny circles into the cloth. It won't nearly be enough to get her off but it's enough to get her a little riled up.

Her head is tipping back, back until it reaches his shoulders and falls to them. Robin doesn't seem to mind that his dress unzipping has to come to a halt. Instead, he's groaning into her neck and placing kisses there—this time even biting a little, nipping where you'd find her pulse. She feels dizzy, drunk on every sensation she's experiencing, lost to sense and logic in favor of the nearly unfathomable desire to come.

She may also be actually drunk, not terribly so, probably just buzzed, but she did have several glasses of wine, which might explain the carefree spirit coursing through her veins. Then again, she's wanted to do this all day, all week. She's just using the alcohol as an excuse to be courageous and daring.

Speaking of which…

She had a plan, one that didn't involve her coming in her panties before getting Robin as hyped up as she feels. Though, it seems that really isn't an issue given how stiff he feels below her. Still, she wants to make his birthday memorable and the experience as enjoyable as possible.

Much as she's enjoying the heavensent handjob she's getting, it's time Robin gets a bit of the attention.

Regina sits up and grabs his wrist, stopping the tight circles, nearly regrets it, but reminds herself that it's not really fair if  _she_  spends  _his_  entire birthday getting off and he doesn't. Robin does make a small protesting scoff, but otherwise allows her to guide his hand away, back to her breasts where he last had them.

Robin squeezes them and Regina unintentionally rocks her hips against his thigh. Of course, he's making this difficult.

Then again, she could be still rocking her hips against him and baring her breasts to him, if she'd just turn around. Not to mention, she could actually situate herself on his cock, where they'd both rather be.

That's enough. That's all she needs to brace the lack of his body heat once more. She gets up then turns to face him. Her legs wobble noticeably as she stands, already coming undone, marathoning after the sweet release of orgasm.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he breathes out, and it strikes her how much he means it. He's short of breath and almost appears mesmerized by her, making her cheeks heat just slightly. It feels good to be wanted.

He'll feel the same, soon enough, she hopes. Or, maybe he does already, she isn't sure. But, she'll make sure by the end of the night he definitely does.

But for now, he's going to get the show he deserves as the rightful birthday boy. Especially, while the encouraging way he's looking at her is boosting her self-esteem.

Regina's hands reach up to her shoulders and grip lightly at the edge of the garment. He hadn't completely unzipped the back of her dress, but enough so that she can get out of it. She takes two fingers on each side, plucking the dress between them and begins to slowly slip the dress off of her shoulders. She watches as he swallows thickly, rubbing a hand on his leg, no doubt trying to ease the tension in his pants.

She thinks briefly to tell him to touch himself as she undresses, but dismisses it. She wants to do the treating around here. Besides, as soon as her dress is off she is going to be on him like white on rice.

Her dress finally hits the floor after what seems like forever and Robin groans appreciatively. His tongue peeks out, licking his lips voraciously, as he finally gets a good look at her naked body—well, not naked, she still has undergarments on (thank god, she actually wore a lacy set tonight), but still pretty bare for him. Except, she's ready to be actually bare for him.

Her hands return to her shoulders and playfully snap her bra strap. Robin jumps, making her chuckle. He's got so much built up tension, she can only imagine how distracted he is.

Regina hooks a finger beneath each lacy strap and guides each one separately down her arm and she can see Robin's breathing visibly quicken. When she's down to just the cups covering her she reaches back to the hooks of her bra and undoes them one by one. Then her bra is falling off, propelling to the floor to join the ever-growing heap of clothes.

"Christ afuckinglive," Robin is murmuring softly to himself, his eyes a bit wider than before and mouth agape.

Regina's teeth scrape against her bottom lip nervously, but she can't resist the urge to tease him. "Like what you see, Mr. Locksley?" echoing his statement from earlier in the evening.

"I am one lucky bastard," is all he says, eyes glued to her breasts, not moving at all. The only thing that is moving is that hand still trying to conspicuously rub that bulge in his pants.

She should probably be helping him with that.

"You know," she drawls, strutting back to him slowly and watching as his eyes still skillfully follow her breasts, "I think you might just be a little overdressed for the occasion."

"Mhm," he hums and she's pretty sure she's lost him, maybe should've waited to show him her breasts, but it's too late now.

As soon as she's within arm's length again, Robin is reaching out for her, fingers eagerly stretching for her hips and digging in as soon as he gets his grip. He tugs her gently forward and Regina willing parts her legs, slinging one over his lap so that she's straddling him, but this time it's more calculated, making certain that her clit is lined up with that bulge. She thinks they both let out a moan when she finally settles against him. Though, she isn't sure if it's the pressure for him or the fact that her boobs are in his face.

It's the pressure for her, no doubt. That pleasurable, tingling, mind-blowing pressure that has her slowly starting to grind against him. Her head tosses backward as her body ignites in an electric storm, powering her up to move a little quicker, chasing after that delicious orgasm just over the edge.

Robin's obsession with her breasts comes in handy (literally) when his palms finally reach up and begin to knead them roughly, while his lips find hers again, open-mouthed and fervent-tongued. They tangle heatedly, wrestling almost violently this time, in a way they never have, but she can't help it, she isn't in control anymore. An animalistic hunger has consumed her, overpowering any sensible thought and restraint she might have once had.

Their lips soon part, in favor of Robin's lips heading elsewhere, blazing a trail of kisses down her neck. Then he does this thing, where he takes a hand from her breasts and trails a finger up her spine while taking a solid bite out of her shoulder. She cries out loudly, arches into him and then she realizes what he's doing because when she bends all the way to him, his mouth descends on her right nipple, sucking it firmly between his lips and— _fuck!_

She doesn't mean to, but can't be bothered to stop it. She hadn't meant to come quite yet, but his mouth on her breast and her hips bucking faster into his cock is too overwhelming, too sensitive, too everything. She can feel it, the beginning of that spiral, that spark that comes just before she actually  _comes_. It signals that she's past the point of no return, it doesn't matter what she does now.

All she can do is give into the overwhelming rush speeding through every vein and jumping between every nerve fiber. Her hips grind harder against him, bucking faster, and her nails are raking through his hair, pushing him more firmly into her breast.

"Suck," she begs him, meaning to ask him to suck harder, but can't quite think straight enough to get the second word out. He gets the idea, sucks harder, even nips at her a couple of times.

"Robin, I'm gonna come," she whines into his ear.

He lets go of her breasts long enough to tell her cheekily, "It's okay love, be my guest."

Regina hadn't even realized how tightly screwed shut her eyes were until she pops them open and locks eyes with Robin, scolding him, "Now is not the time to be an ass."

He just grins. "You're right m'love. Terribly sorry," he murmurs against her lips and gives her a tiny peck, but his smile doesn't fade, even as he returns his attention back to her breast, taking her nipple back in his teeth.

She should reprimand him, but she's too far gone to come up with anything witty. All she can think about is the morse code like rapping of her hips against him in a wild attempt to hurl her body into bliss.

Her voice is low, husky and wanton as she breathes his name again, begging him to make her come.

"Can't wait to watch you come," he huffs when he comes up for air. "C'mon, Regina, come for me."

As he descends and takes her left breast between his lips on a particularly hard suck, Regina feels it, that drop of warmth that cascades down her back, inaugurating the entire shower of warmth on its way.

She comes hard, slapping a hand into his shoulder and crying out his name as she loses absolute control of her body, twisting her hips in every direction, riding out her orgasm as that warmth drowns every cell in her body.

Robin is kissing her suddenly, hard and fervid and she kisses him back equally as rough. The moans in the back of her throat move forward and buzz lazily against his lips. She kisses and kisses as her hips slowly decelerate into a few very long, drawn-out grinds.

When she finally stops, Robin gives her one firm kiss. "Fuck, I wanna watch you do that again," he mutters against her.

But Regina just shakes her head committedly. No way. This isn't about her. "Your turn," she heaves breathlessly.

She doesn't even give him a chance to protest before she wills herself to extract her body from his hold. She climbs dutifully off of his lap and sinks to her knees between his legs. She directs him to scoot his ass to the edge of the couch so she can reach him and he does so, but leans his top half back against the back of the couch, giving him better access to watch her. Good.

Once he's settled, her hands take no time at all to fly to his crotch and fiddle with his belt. Her fingers dexterously undo the belt and toss it somewhere across the floor. She doesn't even bother watching it, too distracted with the task at hand to care. Her hands are back to his pants, wrestling with the button and zipper, then attempting to ruck his pants down as soon as they're undone. But she can't until he lifts his hips just enough to let them slide beneath his thighs and pull them all the way down to his ankles.

Regina realizes with a frown that Robin still has his shoes on. She scoffs and yanks them rather forcefully off his feet so that she can completely discard his pants. But as she takes off his shoes, she gets hit with a terrible lick of nostalgia. Beneath his shoes, of course, are soft grey crew cut socks, something Graham would often keep on when they had sex. When she pouts, she knows it isn't because she misses Graham but because that was a symbol of the lack of intimacy she and Graham had.

And that isn't what she wants with Robin. She wants more with him, even if it's just a blowjob, she wants more than sock-clad sex in any form. They're coming off, she executively decides. But, she frowns again, knowing that she has to take the socks off herself, but she tells herself it's almost like a significant moment for her, a metaphorical right of passage, where independent, detached Regina Mills finally makes an active choice to be closer to someone.

She sucks it up and just grimaces, as she plucks the grey cloth between her index and thumb and slides it off his foot. She quickly does the same for the other then finally pulls the his jeans off of his legs, leaving him bare and making his erection much more noticeable.

Regina rises as high up as she can on her knees and rubs him slowly through the cloth.

Robin whispers an expletive or two and Regina just laughs, knowing that this might be all too fun. She thinks about teasing him, making him wait, and she will. Not for long, but she will.

Her hand slides again against him, feeling how hard he is beneath his boxer shorts. "I thought about sucking you off in Kathryn's bathroom," she confesses quietly into the air above her, making Robin groan and making her feel even hotter.

"Mmm, I wish you had, love," he pants, as she works him a little harder.

"My mouth couldn't wait to be on your cock," she tells him in the most low, gravelly voice she can muster.

Robin moans and begs her, "Regina, please."

She mourns the idea that her taunting isn't going to last as long as she'd like, but he's desperate. It's obvious by the whine in his voice and the pitiful pout on his face. And how can she refuse that cute face? Much as she'd like to have the willpower to do so, her resolve is weak and all too complaisant, which is why her index fingers are currently curled inside the waistband of his boxers. She drags them downward, inching them slowly down his legs—her final tease—but he's a good sport and doesn't complain as she finally rucks them all the way to his ankle.

Her eyes linger on his legs for a just a second because she knows that when she looks back up at him, he's going to be bare, not a stitch of clothing on his body. But she shakes off the anxiousness she feels and reminds herself how badly she wants this, how badly she wants him.

Her nails dig gently into his legs, just below his kneecap, then she trails her hands upwards, lightly scraping her way up to his thighs and enjoying the way he hisses at the sensation. She loves how turned on he is right now, loves the goosebumps that flare up at the pass of her fingernails, the way his eyes are screwed shut and his teeth are buried into his lip like he's trying so hard to concentrate. It makes her heat up, suddenly feeling a bit warmer in her midsection.

It gives her the courage she needs to finally rise back up to the highest of heights her knees will offer. Her eyes, of course, go immediately to his rock hard cock, sending ripple straight through her and creating a deep throb between her legs. Her primary thought is about having him inside her, buried deeply and making her delirious with pleasure. She thinks about just climbing into his lap, sinking down on him and riding him until they've both come so well, they can't see straight.

On the other hand, though, she does want to have a little fun, has a plethora of despicable things she'd like to do, many of which may have to be on hold, given how ready she is and how desperately she wants him. Seems without even trying, Robin surpassed the master in teasing. But, as he's learned tonight, she's quite the competitive individual, so she'll be back on top in no time (literally and figuratively).

Her hand finally reaches for him and she lets a finger trace the length of him first. He's not very long at all, but fairly thick—she prefers thickness—and warm, very warm to the touch. Robin lets out a shuddering breath as that idle finger starts to loop around to the head of him, smearing the beads of precum against him and drawing a louder moan from him.

He says her name again, a soft but strained  _Regina_ , pleading with her.

Regina finally grips him in her fist, realizing with a mix of reluctance and excitement that the teasing hour has to end. She grips him firmly and then drags her hand down slowly, giving him one good stroke. Robin's head tilts back and he groans into the air of the living room.

"Again," he implores, tipping his hips just a little to move her hand down him again.

Regina pumps him again, this time a bit harder and quicker and he's grunting, telling her she's beautiful and wonderful, and how much he wants her. She wants him, too, wants to climb into his lap this instance and slide her soaked heat around him.

And why shouldn't she? She has no reason not to do it. They're together, as far as she's concerned, had practically announced that to all their friends tonight, and she wants him. Besides, she's come to this conundrum before, has thought about having sex with him on several occasions, even before they knew each other well. But every other time had been bad timing, or she feared that they weren't intimate enough to last, that maybe he would end up being a Killian. That's why Killian's statement hurt as much as it did, because it is a fear she has—a very real fear. Tonight had never been about proving anything to her friends. No, it was about proving to herself that Robin is worth more than her irrational fear of intimacy.

Typically, Regina would rather not be aware of what others are thinking, but in this very moment she wishes she could be in Robin's headspace, could figure out where he wants them to be. She needs to know if he's all in like she's all in, or if she's just another body to him. She knows she's not, she doesn't even need to ask for that, but still she just needs the confirmation.

"Hey," Robin's soft voice interrupts her thoughts, "where are you?"

She sighs and peeks her eyes up at him, taking in his adorable, perplexed and worried features and her heart takes a little leap in her chest.

"Sorry," she murmurs quietly, looking away, "it's nothing, just got a little sidetracked. That's all."

Robin's fingers reach for her and gently cup her chin, even though it's an awkward angle. He coaxes her to return her eyes back to his, and she doesn't fight it, just lets his fingers guide her home, until her vision is filled once again with that heart-stopping blue she can't get enough of.

Or maybe it's his whispered, "You know you can tell me anything," that makes her heart stop, but whatever it is, it's made everything stop—her heart, her breathing, time itself.

She feels selfish for taking up time that's supposed to be dedicated to him. It's his day, his moment, the moment he should be spending feeling relaxed and good from the her mouth on his cock. He deserves to have that.

But when he nudges her shoulder with his knee, she realizes he isn't going to let up on her that easily.

Regina backs a little out of the hold of his knees to really look at him. She already regrets what she's going to say before she even says it, but she takes a deep breath and tells him, anyway, "I just—I don't know… where we stand," she takes another breath, "or, well, where I want us to stand."

Robin frowns at that and she knows it doesn't make any sense to him. She threw him a birthday party, he's stayed over at her apartment, hell, just tonight they went out on a date. And now she's suddenly going back on what she's said?

Still, being the Robin that he is, he can't resist a joke. "What, d'you want me to ask you to be my girlfriend?" he teases and actually cajoles a smile from her. "Write you a wee note that asks you to check a box—yes, no, maybe?"

Regina can't help but laugh, as she says, "No, it's not—I mean it is, but I—I just want you to be aware that tonight isn't an anomaly. The kissing you, the," she swallows, winces, "sex. Any of it. I haven't had the best track record with men, as you know, but this is different. Very different. And I want it to be. We don't necessarily have to define what we are straight away," (of course, she can't be all in, she never can be), "but this is not a one time thing," she pauses and adds, "at least, for me anyway."

Robin's face splits into a grin and his eyes have suddenly gone softer than she's ever seen them.

"Come up here," he tells her with a gravelly, but affectionate voice, kicking up every butterfly in her belly.

She does as he asks, rising painfully from her knees and tacitly reminding herself that she's not 20 anymore and to remember that in the future. She straddles him again, assures that her wet heat is pressed against the length of him, eliciting a moan from both of them. God, she wants to feel him inside her.

But now she's focused on how he's kissing her voraciously, sparking little bursts of electricity in her stomach. His tongue is wrestling with hers, the kisses are sloppy and all over the place, but she can feel it, the slow wave of intimacy that never seemed to quite catch up with anyone else she's ever been with. It has her pushing into him harder, kissing him deeper, if even possible, dying for every single bit of him.

Robin is responsive, meeting her with the same urgency and lust and passion. But he breaks at a point to make sure that he reassures her. He's looking deeply in her eyes, promising and doting. Then, he whispers softly, "This is more than a one time thing for me, too," before taking her lips again.

But it's only a few pecks before he parts again and adds, "Though, I do rather like the idea of calling you my girlfriend."

Regina chuckles against his lips, leans forward and nips his bottom lip between her teeth, then tells him, "Why don't  _you_  take me on a date and then we'll go from there?"

"Fine by me," he murmurs against her lips.

She doesn't get a word in edgewise before he's kissing her again. They're back to the hungry, deep kisses that are making her dizzy and wetter. She meets the heat of the kisses with a few rocks of her sex against him, rubbing her slick heat against him again and again, resulting in more heavy moans from both of them. Robin starts kissing her neck, nipping and sucking and Regina is practically mewling in his ear, releasing little hisses of  _unnngh_ s and  _yesss_ es.

His hips are starting to vibe with hers, picking up a matching rhythm and moaning in melody with her.

She thinks about how close they are, how easily it would be to just reach between them, line him up with her and sink down on him. She wants that, craves it so deeply, you'd think she needs it to survive. Fuck it, she can't take this any longer.

"I want you," she pants aloud, driving her hips a little harder, she's so ridiculously turned on she starts think she's gone crosseyed.

"You have me, darling, every bit of me," he tells her breathlessly.

Regina has to resist rolling her eyes, as she answers with, "No, inside me. Want you inside me."

Robin croaks out a soft  _oh_  into the nape of her neck, then presses a kiss to it and says, "I would very much like that, too."

Regina draws her face back until their eyes lock. She can tell that his are nervous and curious, making it clear that he has no idea what to do. He doesn't want to overstep, doesn't want to goad her into this. Neither does she. But they can't do this dance forever.

She'll make the first move, and if he reciprocates, then it's a go. If not, they'll call the whole thing off and hopefully never speak of this again.

She settles a palm on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze before tracing it lightly down the length of his chest until her path veers down into the space between their crotches. She curls a hand around the length of him again and gives him a few lazy strokes. His head just tips back as he starts to thrust a little in her hand, while she's strongly fighting the urge to touch herself again.

"Do you want me Robin?" she whispers to him and,  _god yes_ , he practically yells in answer.

When he brings his head back up, Regina tips her head forward to unite their foreheads. She can feel his breath tickling her chin and mixing with hers. Her hands release him and lift to cup each side of his jaw, thumbs stroking idly through his scruff—oh, she loves that scruff.

"Fuck me," she murmurs into the space between them.

Robin groans enthusiastically and pulls her infinitesimally closer to kiss her desperately, like a man who's been starving for days on end and has finally gotten a meal. She kisses him back just as hard, lips sloppily smacking together as she moans into his mouth. His hands find her breasts again, groping at them gluttonously. It takes her a minute to get as riled up as she was a few minutes ago. They'd had their sweet little moment, with her nearly revealing the blooming buds of her affection for him that she'd planted deep within her, but she's more than ready to shovel a little dirt over them for awhile until she's ready to show Robin the whole garden.

Besides, right now, she's certainly more eager to entertain the sexual tension instead—less thinking involved, more doing.

She focuses on his hands rubbing, his fingers rolling her nipples, his tongue dancing with hers, his erection bumping into her over and over again as he tries to pick up some friction.

They're  _going_  to have sex. She is going to have sex with this man she'd met in a hallway as he was sneakily trying to duck out on a one night stand, this man she thought she'd never see again, this one chance encounter that happened to turn into something more.

Boy, has she never been this grateful for serendipity.

Robin's hands are moving again, sliding down the sides of her and landing on her ass, while his lips take up residence again with her boobs, switching between the two, lathering his tongue across them, and sucking in her raw, hard nipples each time his tongue passes over them.

She needs the friction again,  _needs_  to come.

"Robin, I need you," she can barely pant out.

He gives her left nipple a particularly hard suck in response and reaches between their sweaty bodies to shift her underwear and align himself.

"Wait," she stops him, and "Condom?" queries quietly.

He gives a gruff groan, then pats her leg, requesting for her to get up, and says, "Come with me."

Regina's stomach is in all kinds of knots as she rises from his lap, takes his hand and follows him wherever it is that he's leading. She assumes it's the bedroom, the most likely of places for condoms to be—she hopes anyway, hopes he doesn't just have condoms lying everywhere in the event that he plans to fuck any and everywhere. Although, it does send a ripple of pleasure through her as she conjures up the idea of the two of them making use of those condoms all over his apartment.

Another time, maybe.

However, she's right about the bedroom. Robin guides her all the way down the hall to his bedroom, but he stops just before entering, turning back to Regina with a concerned look on his face.

"You're sure about this?" he asks her softly and it makes her melt in a way he hasn't quite managed yet.

She feels overcome with emotion, doesn't even bother answering him, and instead just settles for a bruising, passionate kiss. She pushes him into the door with a thud as she tries her level best to actually climb him.

Robin doesn't hesitate to open the door, then, taking that as his cue that she's ready and that she wants him. Their lips don't part as they cross the threshold, Regina even thinks that he's kissing her harder, most likely trying to ease the growing tension between them. The growing tension she's trying not to think about and apparently failing miserably at.

That failure only grows when Robin finally breaks away from her, turning his back to her and giving her a full moon view of his bare ass. And it hits her all at once. He's naked. Robin is naked right in front of her. Which means… she's naked in front of him, almost. Nearly bare and defenseless as she stands in his room, watching him dig manically through the nightstand by his bed. It takes him a couple seconds, but when he finally  _aha!_ s, he turns with the precious cargo in hand.

"Starting to think for a sec there, I'd run out," he chuckles as he struts back over to her, tossing the condom on the bed.

Regina laughs, as well, reaching for him as soon as he's close enough, sliding her fingers over his ribs to pull him back to her. He files all the way in, coming nose to nose, sex to sex with her.

"Now, that would have sucked," she whispers, while her lips hedge his.

He gives her a peck. "Terribly," he says and she hums in agreement as his lips join hers again.

Robin's hands fall to Regina's ass again, giving it several squeezes as he walks them back, back toward the bed. Regina groans, asks him to grab her harder and he does, groping and digging his nails into her bare ass, while she rakes her own nails down his back and even along his ass.

He starts to push them faster, walking at a much quicker pace toward the bed.

Not even a breath later, Regina is bumping into the bed and falling back as Robin eases her down, but doesn't dare stop kissing her. He has to, eventually, so that she can get out of the awkward angle she's in. He breaks away from her long enough to allow her to turn her body about 90 degrees, giving her head access to pillows and her whole body access to the mattress.

In that time, Robin's eyes start dancing back and forth again, scanning all over her body.

"You are the most gorgeous creature to walk this earth, I swear it," he tells her.

Regina smirks and shrugs, looking over every inch of Robin, and says, "You're alright."

His nose crinkles in the cutest way as he picks up the condom wrapper at the foot of the bed and rips it open. She watches as he carefully rolls it on, unable to stop her tongue poking out and wetting her lips.

Robin pads back over to her side and climbs onto the bed, swinging a leg over her body and straddling her thighs. She frowns, as he grins down at her mischievously, clueing her in that he's up to something. Still, when he lowers himself down on her, and reaches down between them, she thinks maybe he isn't. His fingers loop inside the elastic of her panties, pulling them down, down, while murmuring something about waiting to take this blasted lace off of her, until that black lace is up and off and he tosses them somewhere on the floor. So much for delicates.

But then she realizes what mischief he's up to when his fingers touch her wet heat.

He parts her, and whispers, so that she can feel his breath against her lips, "Y'know," he drawls, "you say that I'm alright," and he drags a single finger through her, pulling a hiss right out of her, then brings that wet finger up between their lips and finishes with, "but I care to disagree."

Regina lets out a shuddering breath as his tongue darts out and takes that wet finger into his mouth, moaning at the taste of her. As soon as that wet finger leaves his lips with a wet pop, his mouth is back on hers, giving her a taste of herself.

Regina pulls each leg from the cage he created with his. She circles them around his hips, locking her ankles behind him. She tilts her hips upward as their lips meet headily, hopefully signaling that she's ready for him—more than ready. Robin understands, moans again as he reaches between them once more, drags his cock through her wetness, then lines himself up with her.

Her jaw goes slack as he finally sinks into her slowly, pushing in bit by bit until he's pressed all the way in.

Robin looks at her with those soft blue eyes and asks, "Good?"

She nods ardently, spanning an arm across his shoulders and tugging his lips back to hers as she kisses him heatedly. He takes a few seconds before finally drawing out of her slowly and pushing back in. They moan together in unison and he does it again, then again, and again until he picks up a slow steady pace, thrusting in and out of her.

"Robin," she whines into his ear as he starts to nibble on her neck, "you feel so good. So good. So so good."

Robin sucks hard behind her ear and she cries out, hopes his walls aren't too thin and begs for him to do it again. He does, sucks harder this time and Regina's brain almost short-circuits.

"God, I fucking love hearing you make those sounds," he pants.

She wants to keep making those sounds, knows what will do it, but wants to drag this out as long as she can. His cock feels so good inside her and she hasn't wanted anyone this much ever, she doesn't want him to stop, doesn't want this to stop.

But she can tell he's getting closer to the edge already by the way he's pistoning into her faster. It shouldn't take him much longer to get there, he was probably almost there before they even started. She wants to meet him there, jump off of that cliff with him.

Wait, he's talking—what is he saying? "You feel so incredible. Can't wait to feel you come on my cock." He's encouraging her, she realizes, and she finds a new level of appreciation for him.

"Harder," is all she says back, knowing that he'll get the picture.

And he does, he starts pumping into her faster, taking off like a racehorse. But it's still not going to do what she needs. She needs to rub her clit, needs to rub those tight circles until she's spiraling into oblivion.

Robin knows she needs it, too, because he's pleading with her, "Regina, touch yourself, please, touch yourself. I wanna feel you come. Let me feel you come."

(If he keeps talking like that, it may do the trick…)

But, despite that pipe dream and the perilous way their skin is slapping together as he fucks into her harder, she still weasels a hand down to her clit. She immediately releases a guttural groan the second two of her fingers touch the sensitive spot. Her head presses further into the pillow as starts slowly rubbing circles. She moans and moans, crescendoing with each circle her little fingers make. This will do it, she can tell because she feels the warmth creeping up again, ready to spill all over her.

"That's it, love, yes," he says breathlessly as he fucks harder and harder.

Regina wants to respond, wants to tell him how incredible his cock feels, how much she loves having sex with him, but she's too far blissed out to think of anything coherent to say. She gives any bit of energy or thought she has left to the drop of warmth that has returned, trickling down her back.

"I- _uhhhnn_ -Robin fuck- _unnngh_ ," is all she manages as she finally feels that drop hit the bottom of her stomach and turns to oil, popping and sizzling madly on impact.

Regina fists the sheets beneath her erratically as she hollers Robin's name loudly, sending up another prayer that his walls aren't too thin. And then she's coming hard and fast, babbling wildly, as her body is washed out in unspeakable pleasure.

She can feel herself going boneless, turning into a human-shaped jello mold, but she's trying to fight it, trying to stay checked-in as Robin thrusts into her several more times, blabbering about how great she feels on his cock. But her wait isn't long (thank god!), as he grunts and gives a few final, clipped pushes before collapsing against her.

He sighs against her and she answers with one of her own. They lay there for a minute and say nothing, just breathe the same air and let things settle. Regina feels far too blissful and relaxed to say anything. And also because her mouth is extremely dry now. She could really use a glass of water, but can't even get the words out if she wanted to.

After a minute or two, Robin finally rolls off of Regina and she realizes she can breathe a bit better. But her throat remains thick and cottony, so she just lays there and watches as he gets up to toss out the condom.

But, as he chucks the rubber in the trash, it hits her all too harshly.

They had sex.  _She_  had sex with  _Robin_. Robin, who used to be the very definition of lechery and degeneracy. Robin, whom she'd loathed for months despite not really knowing him well at all.

But that isn't him anymore. Now he's Robin, the guy that brings her coffee when they're just friends. Robin, who picks up less fortunate students and takes them to a carnivals. Robin, who is the very definition of truthful, righteous, and good.

She doesn't know when his metamorphosis began, but given the stark contrast between the man she met in late May and the man she's now lying naked in front of, she'd wager a guess that this place has been the cause of it. The idea gives her a tickling rush of pride. She suspends her nonbelief for just a second to entertain the idea that maybe Albuquerque is a magical place. It's done wonders for Robin. And it's certainly done wonders for her, becoming a safe haven from the vice-like grip of Phoenix.

Maybe this could be it, the place she settles, officially. Sure, she's lived in the city for many years now, and could probably qualify as "settled down," but she means really settled down, as in with a family—maybe it won't be with Robin, or maybe it will be, but either way, she thinks that maybe this little old city is where she's meant to rest her bones. She never saw that until now, until she saw the magic of the city take effect on someone else.

She sounds like a crazy person, she knows, but she can feel that she's right in her gut. That much she knows.

Robin smiles gently at her as he struts back to the bed. "What's going on in that pretty little head?"

Regina shrugs, waves him off with a hand. "Nothing, just thinking."

"About?" he prods her, as he takes a seat on the sliver of mattress she left on the edge, pressing her to scooch over a little and give him some room to actually sit.

She reaches for him quickly once he's situated, already craving to touch him again. Her fingers weave lazily with his and she chuckles dryly, supposing it's better to be honest with him.

"If you'd have told me back in May that this was going to happen—that you and I were going to have sex, I'd have never believed you," she says, then adds, "well, unless you said it was hate sex, in which case I may be more inclined to believe that."

Robin smirks. "Oh, we should try that sometime," he jokes, earning him a slap to his knee. "Ow!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby."

Robin's pout shifts into something impish. "Oh, we doing the hate sex now?"

Regina scoffs, rolls her eyes. Maybe the magic of Albuquerque isn't as strong as she thought.

Robin just leans down and presses a sweet kiss to her lips. He rises and grins down at her with twinkly eyes and she thinks that she might be falling just a little bit more in love with him in this moment. Something in her heart melts just a little, making her feel more relaxed and warm and tingly and just… right.

"I don't think you understand how much this day meant to me," Robin whispers, looking over to his bedside table.

It's the first time she actually gets a good look at it. It's fairly bare, aside from the antiquated digital alarm clock, the matte black lamp and a picture frame that's face down on the surface. Regina knows that that's what he's looking at, and she knows that the picture is face down for a reason. Regina's heart lurches in a fit of worry for him, which has her weaving their fingers together again and clasping their hands together more tightly.

Her eyes find his newly sullen blue. "Help me understand, then," she murmurs with a squeeze to his hand.

"Well…" he drawls, looking between them and taking his gaze meticulously down Regina's body.

Regina snorts, getting his suggestion right away. She lightly kicks his leg as punishment but he doesn't really react.

He reciprocates with his own squeeze. "Not much to tell. Just have had a long running cycle of rubbish birthdays. Started when I was a kid, about eight, I think, and ever since then it's felt like I've had shit luck with birthdays. Something always goes wrong. When it started, it was because of my mum and dad, but then it became Marian and I always getting in fights, or once I came to the States it was I would get in fights at bars or get told I'm too bloody—what was the word— 'mopey' to fuck—"

"Someone said that to you?"

"Yeah," he chuckles wryly, giving her fingers a little squeeze. "To be fair they were right so I've no right to really complain, but it still sucks."

"Yeah," Regina answers musingly, "well, if I may say, you are not at all too 'mopey' to fuck and I rather enjoyed tonight."

"I very much enjoyed tonight," he whispers, giving her another soft kiss. "I know I keep saying it, but tonight really meant a lot."

"I'm glad. You really deserved it, Robin."

They fall silent as Robin places a kiss in her hair. And for a few minutes it stays just like that, two people peacefully quiet, taking in the gentle mood of the night, the blissful calm in their bones and the intimate silence of two lovers. Regina is intoxicated with it, just wants to lay here forever and never move.

Everything feels so right, she almost begins to worry when she realizes the voices that shout her every fear and insecurity are silent, buried underneath the overwhelming serenity she feels being wrapped up in Robin's arms. Normally, those voices would be running rampant at this point, reminding her that the other shoe will drop and convincing her to go ahead and leave while she can.

But, instead, she just curls herself easily into his side and mutters, "Is it alright if I stay the night?"

Robin dips his chin to look down at her the best he can. Despite the awkward angle, she can still see his smile, stretching wider than she thinks she's seen yet. "And have you take up room that could be mine in the bed?" he tuts softly.

"Or, I could just leave…" she sings as she starts to roll away from him.

But Robin isn't having that at all. His hands fly out for her waist and catch her, drawing her back into his side as quickly as she left it.

"Don't you dare."

Regina doesn't say anything. She just cuddles herself further into his side and even gives a small peck to his chest.

"Now," he sighs, "it's been a long time since I've shared a bed with someone so who knows what dodgy shit I do in my sleep. So, if I start anything too barmy, wake me up or make a run for it."

"Am I gonna become a Lifetime movie?" she asks worriedly.

Robin chuckles, "Let's hope not."

"Comforting," she says flatly.

Robin just continues to laugh and rolls over to turn off the lamp on his bedside table, then he returns and drops a kiss to Regina's head.

"Will I see you in the morning?" he queries hopefully and she knows that he isn't asking because of the Lifetime comment.

Still, she doesn't resist the urge. "I suppose that depends on whether or not you're going to kill me in my sleep."

He laughs once more and hums a quiet, "Goodnight, Regina."

Regina clings to Robin just a little bit tighter and presses one final kiss into his chest.

"Goodnight, mopey. Happy birthday."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's why this is M rated.


End file.
